


The Lonely Planet Guide to Second Chances

by 1Diamondinthesun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Graphic Designer Harry, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Lovers to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Partying, Photographer Harry, Post-Break Up, Recreational Drug Use, Second first kiss, Teacher Louis, Tourism, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-06 22:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 102,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Diamondinthesun/pseuds/1Diamondinthesun
Summary: When Harry and Louis broke up, the last thing on Harry's mind was the non-refundable surprise trip he had booked for them across Europe. Harry was supposed to be moving on, not sightseeing with his ex. In hindsight, touring the continent with Louis was probably a bad idea. So naturally, that's exactly what Harry did.Or, the breakup travel fic featuring romantic sunsets, awkward bed sharing, and second chances against a backdrop of some of Europe's most iconic cities.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishiplouis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishiplouis/gifts).



> For ishiplouis. I had a blast writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading. I tweaked your prompt just a little to make the trip a surprise. Thank you for the lovely prompts!
> 
> This fic would not have come together at all without the help of my dear friend and beta, britpickerhl. Thank you so much for your cheerleading, support, and great ideas. xx

I.

 

London, Spring 2018

 

“To travel is to live.”

-Hans Christian Andersen

 

Harry was handling the breakup well, all things considered. He was taking care of himself, eating well and hanging out with friends, and watering his succulents. He went out to the local pub with Niall one Friday night, dressed a little nicer than usual, because hey—maybe it was time to move on and meet someone new—and he had a few cocktails.

Tequila was always his weakness.

“Why do we come to this bar, Niall?” Harry mused after taking a sip of his margarita on the rocks. He examined his fingernails in the dim lighting of the pub. Maybe it was time to go for manicures with Gemma again. “Nothing ever happens.”

Well, that was  a lie. After all, this was the bar where Harry met Louis. But Harry wasn’t thinking about him tonight. Harry was moving on.

Niall turned to scan the room around him, grinning at the subdued crowd. It was still early.

“Don’t look, but that guy at the bar is staring at you,” Niall grinned after taking an impressive swig of his Guinness.

Harry giggled, feeling pleasantly buzzed, and not-so-subtly turned to glance at the man. And then he promptly snorted a laugh. Harry didn’t know what he was expecting, but what he saw was a stout forty-something businessman with shrewd eyes in an ill-fitting suit. Not his type at all. Harry turned back to Niall with a confused smile.

“Two words,” Niall said with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. “Sugar daddy.”

Harry felt a blush rise in his cheeks and rolled his eyes. “Right. That’s why he’s ordering a--” Harry turned to stare at the man again, who was now sipping a beer and giving Harry a blatant once over, “--a Coors Light. Good eye, Niall.”

“He’s saving his money to sweep you off your feet. Buy you those new boots you’ve been raving about.”

Harry lost it at that; he laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe, until no sound came out, until his face was flushed and tears brimmed at his eyes. Harry couldn’t turn to look the man at the bar now, as his forehead was currently squished against the sticky table top as he gasped for breath. It was gross. But everything felt delightful to Harry, as it did when he was freshly buzzing with alcohol. The margarita was delightful; the weather outside was balmy, and even Niall, traitor that he was, was lovely.

“Niall, how could you,” Harry chuckled, sitting up and pushing long tendrils of curls off his face. “I thought it would be a good idea when I was like, 18. I told you that in confidence.”

Niall shrugged, unrepentant. “Just looking out for you, mate. Since you’re ready to move on and all. Anyway, how was work?”

Somehow general conversations led to very specific questions from Niall, and before Harry knew it, they were in dangerous territory.  _ Louis _ territory. It started off innocently enough, because even though Harry was still hurt, he was a good person and wanted to know Louis was doing ok. Things devolved somehow into sensitive topics. On his second or fourth drink, Harry took a long sip, the man at the bar long forgotten, set his glass down, and sighed.

“I just, you know—Niall? Are you listening?”

“Yeah, mate. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled. “I just, we were going to see the world together, you know?”

“Like metaphorically speaking?” Niall asked. “Like, ‘we could have had it all’?”

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “No, literally speaking. We were gonna see Venice and Paris and all kinds of n-nice places,” he hiccupped.

Niall hummed sympathetically, and began musing about how Harry could still see all those places, just maybe with someone new, but Harry wasn’t listening. There was something right in the corner of his mind that he couldn’t place. What was it?

_ We were going to see the world together _ .

They were back to dangerous, no-go, Louis territory. Harry had flashes then, of being curled up with Louis on a lazy Sunday morning, daydreaming about the places they wanted to see. Together. In his mind, Harry could almost feel Louis’ stubble brush against his face when he pressed a kiss to his cheek and asked, “where would we go?”

“Everywhere,” Harry had answered confidently. And they had moved on to other topics soon, their wanderlust forgotten. But Harry remembered.

_ We were going to see the world together. _

Because Harry was a hopeless romantic. And he couldn’t let it go. So an innocent google search for tours of Europe had led to very specific trip reviews and booking options. The details were kind of blurry, but Harry remembers the confirmation email sitting in his inbox, announcing the future travels across the continent were in fact booked.

But surely Harry had canceled, right? They had been broken up for six months; surely by now he would have remembered the trip…right? Realization dawned on Harry, sitting in the noisy pub, and he choked on his margarita with the lime wedge on the rim.

“Shit,” Harry wheezed.

“Eh?” Niall asked, mid-sentence about the virtues of moving on and being an adult, possibly with a sugar daddy. That was a debate for another time, though.

“I said, shit. I’m in trouble.”

“Why?” Niall asked.

Harry took a measured sip of his drink, set it down, and buried his face in his hands.

“Louis is going to kill me.”

*

Harry was already nervous by the time he fished his phone out of a tight jeans pocket to make the call. It’s no wonder his fingers shook a little as he pulled up Louis’ contact information. Not only was he about to deliver spectacularly bad news, but this would also be the first time he’s spoken to Louis in months. Five months, twenty-eight days, and a few hours, give or take.

Harry paced the well-worn track on his and Niall’s dingy carpet which he had been walking now for an hour. One hour. It’s hard to believe his slowly-mending life could come crashing down in the space of an hour. That’s the length of time it took to contact the travel agency and find out that the tickets were, in fact, non-refundable this close to the scheduled trip. One hour is the length of time it took Harry to then click on Louis’ number and pick nervously at his lip as he listened to it ring.

Never mind that Harry’s first instinct when he heard the news had been to call Louis; surely Louis would know what to do. He could fix it. Maybe he could speak to Linda, the cheerful representative from the travel agency and sort everything out. Louis had always been persuasive.

For the first time since their breakup, Harry didn’t have to quell the impulse to turn to Louis. For months now, every random thing that reminded Harry of Louis made his fingers itch to text his ex. How many times had he heard the advert on the radio for his favorite tea, and had to literally sit on his hands until the urge to tell Louis had passed? How many times had something triggered the memory of an inside joke, leaving Harry missing his best friend?

Because that’s what Louis had been all along—Harry’s best friend. Before they dated, they had been close friends from the beginning. True, Harry had been a goner the first time he glimpsed Louis’ electric blue eyes and heard him say in a lilting voice, “What are you staring at, love?” But before they took the plunge and committed to dating, they had that foundation of friendship. Harry had just never clicked so well with anyone so soon in his life. So to go from being in a relationship with the one Harry saw as The One, to never seeing or speaking to each other again was just. A lot. But. Enough time had passed now since their mutual breakup that Harry could look back on their time together fondly, with no animosity for Louis.

Now, as the phone rang, it occurred to Harry that perhaps Louis didn’t feel the same.

Too late, though, a familiar, soft voice answered across the line.

“Hello?”

Harry’s pulse quickened in his chest, and he sucked in a breath of surprise. In his margarita-fogged mind, he knew he and Louis would be talking tonight, but somehow, hearing his ex’s voice took Harry by surprise.

“L-Louis?” Harry breathed, in shock.

“Harry?” he heard Louis reply, and then Harry heard movement in the background, as if Louis was stirring in bed.

Bed? Shit. What time was it?

Harry squinted at the digital clock on the microwave, finding the numbers blurry. Considering the amount of tequila chugging through his veins, he wasn’t surprised he couldn’t read it.

“Yeah, hi,” Harry replied a little dizzily, stumbling to the couch to sit down.

“Harry, what’s going on? What’s wrong? It’s 2 am.”

Harry winced and sighed. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

“What’s wrong?” Louis asked, voice deadly serious. “What happened?”

Harry’s shoulders slumped, dreading the conversation that was to follow. “Nothing’s wrong,” he began, but halted. “I mean, there is something…kind of awful, actually, but like…”

“Harry,” Louis sighed patiently. “Please say something important in the next five seconds, or I’m hanging up.”

Harry’s eyes widened in panic. “Okay! Um,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I need to see you.”

“Now?” Louis asked incredulously.

“No, no,” Harry reassured him. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Are you in jail?” Louis deadpanned.

Harry snorted a laugh. “Ha. No, I’m not.”

“Drunk?”

“That’s…beside the point,” Harry frowned. “Look. I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important, right?”

“Right…” Louis trailed off uncertainly. “So…?”

“So,” Harry said, preparing himself mentally for rejection, “can we meet up tomorrow? Just for a minute,” he rushed to say, imagining Louis was expecting a get-back-together speech.

“Tomorrow…well, today,” Louis mumbled, “is Saturday. Okay. Did you have something in mind for this meeting?”

Harry ignored the tinge of sarcasm in Louis’ voice. “How about Danny’s?” he suggested.

Louis hummed across the line, considering. “Alright. Text me a time. Now, though, I’m going back to bed. Just tell me—on a scale of one to ten, one being ‘annoyed’ and ten being ‘apoplectic rage,’ how mad am I going to be at this conversation?”

Harry would have laughed under different circumstances. The one-to-ten scale was an old inside joke of theirs.

“Um,” Harry mused hesitantly. “Maybe an 8?”

Louis sighed, and Harry heard a muffled sound that reminded him of a head thumping back against a pillow. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Harry murmured, and then listened as Louis ended the call. He stared down at his phone in the dim lounge he shared with Niall, wondering how he was going to break the news to Louis. At least if they were at Danny’s, in a public place, Louis couldn’t murder him.

Harry shook his head wearily, set an alarm on his phone, and then curled up on the faded beige couch, too exhausted to stumble to his bed. Harry knew sleep would elude him, though. He had spent so many months trying not to think of Louis, and now that he was allowed to, memories flooded his mind. Their first date; first kiss; first fight (there hadn’t been many); followed by first make-up sex. Harry considered suffocating himself in the pillow under his head, which smelt vaguely of Doritos. But then Louis would be on the hook for a romantic holiday for two, and damned if Harry wasn’t going to be his plus one.

*

There was still a chill in the March air in London, so Harry shrugged on his favorite navy pea coat and stepped into his beat up leather Chelsea boots. He styled his now-shoulder-length hair casually, letting the curls free. It was longer now than the last time Louis saw it. If Harry was going to see Louis for the first time in ages, he wanted to look his best.

It’s not that Harry was trying to like,  _ woo _ Louis or get back together—he wasn’t. Enough time had passed for Harry to see that maybe Louis wasn’t The One, after all. Harry had to remind himself that he was still young, and had plenty of time to meet his soul mate.

But he still wasn’t going to show up to see Louis looking anything less than his best.

Harry huffed in the chilly early afternoon as he rounded the corner to the restaurant. He was five minutes early, and suspected Louis would be late, as usual. Then Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

Louis was there.

Louis stood, his back leaning on the brick wall of Danny’s, exhaling a plume of smoke from a cigarette. A delicate hand held the cigarette, while the other was stuffed in a pocket of an olive green jacket that dwarfed Louis’ delicate frame. He hadn’t noticed Harry yet.

Louis leaned his head back against the brick wall as he exhaled the smoke from what Harry knew was a menthol cigarette. His natural caramel highlights glinted in the muted sunlight of the afternoon. Harry had the sudden urge to take a picture and capture the moment, maybe caption it something like “Afternoon Contemplation” and hang it on a wall.

Harry shook the thought from his head and resumed walking towards the restaurant. As he approached Louis, the man in question turned his head to see Harry approach. Louis narrowed his eyes for a moment, assessing Harry for the first time in months. Harry resisted the impulse to smooth down his sweater and make sure his hair was behaving. He had forgotten how intense Louis’ stare could be.

Harry’s footsteps echoed on the pavement as he neared Louis. Louis looked up to the sky for a moment, exhaling one more drag from his cigarette, and then gracefully dropped it to the ground and stubbed it out. He turned to face Harry with curiosity.

“You’re late.”

It was the first thing Louis had said to Harry’s face in half a year, and Harry felt warm all over. He frowned and subtly checked his phone.

“I’m two minutes early,” Harry protested. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Nah,” Louis replied with a shrug. “Wasn’t sure you’d come, actually.”

“Why?” Harry asked, pocketing his phone. He stopped a few feet from Louis and waited.

“Thought you’d wake up hungover and regret calling me,” Louis confessed, grinning at the ground. His eyes flicked up to meet Harry’s, and Harry was surprised to see hesitation in Louis’ blue eyes.

“Nah,” Harry echoed, and gestured to the door. “Want to go inside? It’s freezing.”

Louis nodded and followed Harry through the door to the restaurant. Danny’s had been their go-to spot for a reason. Inside, the understated space featured small tables with simple white tablecloths and small vases of cheerful daffodils. The early spring light filtered in through a large picture window, and soft, classical music was playing on the speaker.

There was a moment of awkwardness as the hostess, Jenny spotted them and smiled.

“Gentlemen! Long time no see,” she greeted, smile wide.

Harry felt Louis’ eyes on his face, and blushed faintly under the scrutiny. He half expected Louis to make a sarcastic comment, but instead he turned to face Jenny and smiled politely.

“Hope you’ve been well,” Louis greeted her.

Jenny beamed and nodded eagerly. “Great, thank you! Let me just grab some menus and get you settled.”

It was clear that Jenny thought Harry and Louis were on a date. Harry silently wished for the universe to drive a huge crack into the floor for Harry to crawl in. He glanced at Louis to find him studying Harry with a familiar look of curiosity.

When Harry met Louis’ eyes, Louis quirked a smile, then turned to follow Jenny to a table, leaving Harry in his wake. Harry resolutely did not stare at Louis as he followed him to their old usual table by the window. Nope. That’s not what Harry was here for.

Remembering the purpose for this visit sent a shock of anxiety through Harry’s body. He was going to have to tell Louis everything, and he had no idea how Louis would take it. Harry smiled uneasily at Jenny as he slid onto a seat across from Louis and accepted a menu. She took their drink orders and left.

There was a moment of silence, in which Harry pretended to peruse the menu while he focused on taking steady breaths. Honestly, it felt like he hadn’t been able to relax since he remembered the tickets. Apparently, the exhaustion had taken its toll on Harry.

“You look tired,” Louis observed, folding his menu closed and staring across the table.

“Um,” Harry replied, squirming under the scrutiny. “Yeah. Hung out with Niall last night,” he confessed.

Louis raised his eyebrows. “The pub?”

Harry grimaced and nodded. “Margaritas.”

Louis mirrored Harry’s look of pain. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“So…” Louis trailed off, eyes scanning the familiar surroundings of the restaurant. “I take it you didn’t call just to catch up.”

“No,” Harry smiled guiltily down at his menu. “I mean! Not that I don’t want to catch up. I just, um.”

“Yes?” Louis asked with a wry smile.

Harry was saved from confessing everything by the reappearance of Jenny. She placed two water glasses on the table and took their order. When she left, Louis took a pointed sip of his water.

“Should I have ordered something stronger?”

“Um,” Harry hummed nervously. “I hope not.”

They spoke in unison then.

“Harry, really. What’s going on?”

“How’s your family?”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, embarrassed. “Sorry, what?”

“You first,” Louis hedged.

“I said, how’s your family doing?” Harry asked, biting his lip.

The question took Louis by surprise. He tilted his head in consideration, and then spoke. “Doing alright, I guess. Mum is busy as usual with the kids, but they’re all good.”

“Good!” Harry replied with a smile.

“Harry,” Louis continued, expression anxious. “You didn’t call me at 2 am to ask how my family is doing. What’s going on?”

Harry met Louis’ concerned eyes, then dropped his gaze to the table. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Okay,” Harry began, shifting in his seat. “It’s just…can you hear me out first, before you say anything? Please?”

Louis raised his eyebrows, but nodded silently.

“Right, so,” Harry sighed. “I’ll start by saying, I understand if you’re mad and you never want to speak to me again. Okay?”

“Okay,” Louis replied slowly. He narrowed his eyes, and nodded for Harry to continue.

“I did something,” Harry pressed on. “At the time, it was nice, but now…you’re gonna hate me.”

Louis stared expectantly, honoring Harry’s request to hear him out first. Harry winced, then spoke in a rush to finally get it out.

“Ibookedthetrip,” Harry said with panicked eyes, willing Louis to understand.

“You…what?” Louis asked, leaning closer in confusion.

“Remember when we were talking—of course you do, I know, sorry—about traveling? Seeing the world, once we saved up the money?” Harry asked.

Louis nodded slowly. “Right.”

“And it was just a thing we wanted to do one day, right? Nothing like, serious.”

“Right.”

“Right, so. Um, it turns out, funny enough,” Harry laughed nervously, “that I, um, booked a trip. For us. As a surprise for your birthday.”

Louis’ jaw dropped. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“It’s just…like, a tour of Europe, you know. Not like a tropical holiday. But yeah.”

“Harry,” Louis breathed, finally finding his voice. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Harry met Louis’ eyes with a tortured expression. “Lou, I’m sorry. After everything happened, I just forgot all about it. Only remembered last night at the pub with Niall.”

“But. You canceled, it, right?” Louis said, wide eyed. “Please tell me you canceled it.”

Harry hung his head. “Louis,” he said feebly.

“Harry.”

“I tried, believe me. Was on the phone for ages explaining that we…what happened, and why we couldn’t go,” Harry confessed. “They won’t do it.”

Louis closed his eyes and took a slow breath in. He let it out. When he opened his eyes, his expression was panicked.

“What are you saying, Harry? Why did you call me; why did you want to meet up? What have you done?”

“I, I’m sorry,” Harry stammered. “I purchased the tickets in our names. Specifically.”

“So you’re saying…”

“That even if I had someone else to take on the trip, I couldn’t.”

“Harry…”

“It has to be you,” Harry fretted, averting his eyes.

In the stunned silence that followed, Harry chanced a look at Louis’ face. He was staring slack-jawed at Harry, incredulous. His voice was deceptively soft when he spoke next.

“No.”

The word hung in the air between them, and dread filled Harry’s chest.

“No?” Harry asked.

“No. I absolutely will not go,” Louis confirmed with a slow shake of his head. “No.”

“Louis—“

“Absolutely not, Harry.”

“Okay, but—“

“Nope. You want me to talk to them?” Louis challenged. “I’ll do it.”

Harry buried his face in his hands. “I tried already. Offered to have you call. They won’t budge, Louis.”

“Shit,” Louis hissed.

“I know.”

“I mean,  _ shit _ —how much are you in for?” Louis asked.

“That’s not important,” Harry replied, reluctant to talk about money. “What’s important is, they won’t refund it. The most they can do is postpone it, up to one year.”

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis groaned. “What were you thinking?”

A tiny piece of Harry’s heart broke all over again at the question. “I…I’m sorry.”

Louis ran a hand through his tousled hair and sighed. “When is it? The trip?”

Harry met Louis’ expectant gaze. “End of April. Do you…are you busy then?”

Louis shrugged, looking defeated. “Practicum will be wrapping up then, and I have a break before exams and my project is due. Are  _ you _ busy then?”

Harry shook his head slowly. “Forgot I asked off work for the trip, it was so long ago.”

“Okay,” Louis said, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm. “I’m not saying yes. I’m just saying…when would you need the money by?”

Harry frowned in confusion. “Money?”

“Well, I’m going to pay for my half,” Louis scoffed. “Of course.”

“I, um. It’s actually…already paid for.”

“What?!” Louis exclaimed. 

Harry shrugged, embarrassed.

“Are you crazy?” Louis asked, eyes wide. “You paid for it? Like a deposit?” 

“In full,” Harry sighed, not meeting Louis’ amazed expression.

“Harry,” Louis breathed in awe. “Oh my god.”

“I know,” Harry said, hanging his head. “I know.”

Harry was saved from further questions by the arrival of Jenny with their lunch. Harry used the meal as an excuse to avoid eye contact for a moment. It was just a lot—after months of not seeing Louis, Harry was a little overwhelmed. As if reading his mind, Louis hummed thoughtfully.

“So this has been fun.”

Harry snorted a laugh, then blushed. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” Louis insisted with a chuckle. “Here I was thinking I’d need to post your bail, and all this happened instead. Wow.”

“Wow is right,” Harry grinned reluctantly.

“So…what are we going to do?” Louis asked.

“I mean, I see only one option,” Harry admitted.

Louis nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yes. Same.”

“The question is,” Harry began tentatively, “can you put up with me for two weeks as we traverse the continent?”

Louis’ expression softened, just for a moment. If Harry hadn’t been schooled in Louis’ micro-expressions, he might have missed it. Louis tilted his head in thought, then hummed.

“Do you still snore?”

Harry’s jaw dropped and color rose in his cheeks. “Excuse you! I’m not the one who snores.”

“This is a safe space, Harry. You can admit it.”

“Oh my god.”

Louis snickered, then straightened in his seat. “Alright, alright. But you owe me.”

“Definitely,” Harry agreed easily.

“And I reserve the right to complain as much as I want, about anything, anytime.”

“Deal.”

“Oh my god. Okay. So we’re doing it?” Louis asked. Did Harry detect a sparkle in his eye?

“We’re doing it,” Harry confirmed. “Seriously, Louis, thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t thank me,” Louis grinned. “I’m about to make your life hell for two weeks.”

Harry mirrored his grin. “Bring it on.”

*

Harry sighed as he stared at the disaster that was currently his bedroom. It had been two weeks since his meeting with Louis, and now it was time to pack. His anxious eyes scanned the piles of clothes on the bed, where an open suitcase lay. Beside it was a slightly crumpled map of Europe. A half-empty glass of Harry’s favorite Riesling was perched precariously on top of a stack of travel books he had checked out of the library. And wedged carefully between his shoulder and ear was a chipped iPhone, where Harry was half-listening to his mother fret over him. He tuned in from debating between two floral shirts at the mention of Louis’ name.

“Harry, dear, I just don’t see why it has to be Louis. After everything you’ve been through together…surely there’s another way.”

Harry groaned in frustration and sank down on the edge of the bed not covered in clothes.

“I told you, I tried to get the name on his ticket changed. Was on the phone forever. It’s a no-go.”

His mother, Anne sighed across the line. “But darling, how are you going to survive living out of each other’s pockets for two weeks when you’re still…you know…”

“Still what?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Still in love with him,” Anne concluded gently.

A weight settled in Harry’s stomach, and he found himself shaking his head, although Anne couldn’t see it. “Mum, no. We’ve talked about this,” Harry replied patiently, skimming his fingers over the sheer black fabric of one floral shirt. “The goal is to be friends, eventually—not to date again. It’s been so long since we’ve even spoken, I was amazed he agreed to meet up with me. It’s gonna take some work to even get to the friends level, much less dating.”

Anne hummed, her tone dubious. “If you say so. I just know how much you cared about him, dear. Feelings like that don’t just go away.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, mum. At this point, I’m willing to be his friend if nothing else. If he’ll have me.”

“Of course he’ll have you!” Anne exclaimed indignantly. “He’d be lucky to be your friend, and don’t forget it.”

Harry chuckled, staring longingly at his glass of wine. “Okay, mum. I’m gonna finish packing, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Love you, dear,” Anne replied fondly.

“Love you, too,” Harry smiled into the phone. “Bye.”

After Anne hung up, Harry slowly lowered his old phone to his lap and scanned the hurricane that was his bedroom. Clothes and shoes and books were strewn everywhere, and Harry was going to have to finish packing to even get to his bed that night.

Harry stood, cracking his neck from one side to the other. What do you wear on a holiday with someone you desperately want to befriend, but are no longer dating? Harry stared skeptically at a pile of his favorite broken-in boots on the floor. Louis wouldn’t be looking at his shoes, or his clothes. Chances are, Louis wouldn’t be looking at him at all. Harry shook his head and reached for his glass of wine. It was going to be a long night. 

*

_ “I can’t do this.” _

_ Harry paused, halfway inside a kitchen cupboard, looking for a sauce pan when he heard the words. _

_ Louis. From the sound of his voice, he was standing at the edge of the kitchen. Harry heard a brief jingling of keys, and knew that Louis was twirling them around his fingers. It was a nervous habit. In the silence that followed, the only sound in their flat was the hum of the ancient refrigerator. _

_ Time stood still. The words were playing on a loop in Harry’s mind, sliding through his veins like ice water. His arms actually felt numb. He blinked slowly, once, twice. His heart pounded so hard he was sure Louis could hear it. Because surely Louis wouldn’t leave…right? _

_ Harry slowly backed out of the cupboard, minding his head (he hit it every time he looked in this cupboard) and swallowed the lump in his throat. A million words ran through his mind. Can’t do what? Why? Don’t go please please please stay. _

_ Instead, the only thing that came out of his mouth was a shaky, “Lou?” _

_ Harry hesitated a moment before he turned to face Louis. He could feel himself frowning. Why was it suddenly so hard to look Louis in the eye? What was Harry afraid to see? He started from the bottom, staring at Louis’ feet. He had replaced the thick socks he had been wearing all day with his favorite black trainers. His faded skinny jeans with the holes in the knees had been traded for simple black Adidas joggers with the white stripes down the sides. And the old grey sweater of Harry’s he had been wearing was now a loose white tank and black hoodie. Harry took all this in while he steeled himself to look at Louis’ face. _

_ Harry continued his upward scan. The stubble on Louis’ chin and jawline. Lips bitten red like Louis did when he was craving a cigarette, tugged down into a grimace. And further upward, piercing blue eyes, hooded by the delicate skin of his eyelids and a long fan of lashes, casting shadows on the faint circles under his eyes. It seemed Louis was having the same trouble meeting Harry’s eyes, and well. That hurt. _

_ “I’m going to go work out with Liam for a while. I just need to…go.” Louis replied softly. When he chanced a look up at Harry’s eyes, and green met blue, uncertainty bloomed. Louis nodded towards the door. _

_ “I was meaning to go visit for a while anyway,” Louis continued, as if to soften the blow. “I’ll, um. Be back.” _

_ Harry felt himself nod as if on autopilot. His pulse pounded through his ears, and he opened his mouth to object, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. “Okay.” Not okay. “I’m just gonna start dinner,” Harry replied, although Louis had not particularly asked. _

_ Louis nodded a grim smile and turned towards the door. Harry stood frozen in place, every nerve ending in his body screaming to ask Louis to stay. He watched Louis cross the room and slide his phone into his hoodie pocket. Harry waited for Louis to turn and say goodbye like he always did, but Louis walked on. He shut the heavy wooden door behind him with a neat click and his footsteps echoed down the hall. Harry stood alone in their empty flat, mouth hanging open and tears stinging his eyes, as he tried to figure out how they had gotten to this point. _

Harry groaned and buried his face in the extra pillow beside his head. Extra pillow—not Louis’ pillow. Not anymore. Harry had no idea why that particular memory was plaguing him that night. He thought back to how that had felt, watching Louis walk out the door without a backwards glance. How it had felt to cook dinner, on autopilot, in the empty kitchen. And then how it had felt when Harry heard the click of the lock and then watched in wonder as Louis slunk back into view.

That time, he had stayed away for three hours. Dinner had long since gone cold.

They hadn’t talked about it; not really. Louis had toed off his shoes, then shuffled into the kitchen where he wordlessly wrapped his arms around Harry and buried his face in the front of his t shirt.

_ “Sorry I left,” Louis mumbled into the cotton of Harry’s shirt. _

_ “You came back,” Harry countered, cautiously enveloping Louis in his arms and rubbing between his shoulder blades with a warm palm. _

_ “Always come back,” Louis promised quietly, nuzzling into Harry’s chest. “No matter what.” _

_ “I know,” Harry replied softly, swaying them slowly side to side in the kitchen. Everything felt tremulous, like they were holding on by a thread. Harry was afraid to breathe, to blink, worried that when he did, Louis would vanish in a puff of smoke, leaving him alone again. _

_ Harry cleared his throat softly, causing Louis to look up with sleepy blue eyes. “Dinner?” _

_ Louis shook his head slowly, letting his arms slide down Harry’s broad back until he was able to take a step back. “Bed. Please.” _

_ Harry nodded once, clicked the overhead light off, and laced his fingers with Louis’. He left the mess in the kitchen without a backwards glance. Then he led them down the short hall to their bedroom. When Harry closed the door, Louis was on him in a second, pressing his back against it. His lips brushed across Harry’s throat and neck, up to his lips. When Louis kissed him, Harry tasted cigarettes and beer and regret. It made tears prick his eyes, and he blinked them back. _

_ As if reading his mind, Louis pulled back enough to whisper, “Shh. I’m here, babe. Come to bed.” _

By the faint moonlight streaming through their bedroom window, Harry had undressed Louis and then himself, willing his hands not to shake with how badly he wanted him. Not just his body, but his presence. Just knowing he was near enough to touch, to kiss, to cherish.

A glance around his quiet bedroom showed that Louis was indeed gone, and had been long enough for his scent to fade from the bedsheets and his clutter of clothes and shoes to vanish from the closet. Not for the first time since their breakup, Harry curled up on his side, imagining the press of a comforting, familiar body at his back. He drifted off like that, caught between a fantasy and delusion, refusing to look at the clock again.

*

Harry woke to greyish-blue light streaming weakly through his window, and he blinked in the direction of the clock. It was 7 a.m. on a Saturday, and Harry rasped, “I need a holiday” to no one in particular. Then he realized he  _ was _ going on a holiday, and his eyes popped open.

A holiday. With Louis. Today.

Harry gasped and sat up in his rumpled bed, swaying a little dizzily from the sudden movement. He reached for his phone on the night stand, and saw a series of missed texts from Niall.

_ Hey, you still awake? _

_ …guess not. _

_ Are you still going through with the trip? _

Harry’s brows furrowed as he imagined what Niall would say. Most likely, something along the lines of “Are you crazy?” And, well. Harry didn’t feel crazy necessarily. A little nervous. Excited, sure. Hesitant. But he guessed that was to be expected when you were about to embark on a journey with your ex.

Thoughts of Louis should not be allowed before 8 a.m., Harry realized with a yawn. He needed coffee. And Niall.

Harry reluctantly threw back the warm duvet on his bed and stood, stretching his back. He went about his morning routine, showering, dressing, and trudging down the hall to his tiny kitchen to start the coffee. It was still early when he shuffled down the hall and knocked tentatively at Niall’s bedroom door.

A muffled grunt was the only reaction Harry could detect, so he cracked the door open. “Coffee’s on,” Harry announced to the Niall-shaped lump in the middle of the bed. “And yes, I’m still going through with it.”

Harry grinned and backed out of the doorway, counting as he walked away. Just as he suspected, he didn’t get to the number four before Niall was stumbling through the doorway of his room.

“I’m up,” he groaned, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Jesus. Coffee?”

“Coffee,” Harry confirmed, looking over his shoulder. He led the way into the kitchen and pulled two mugs from the cabinet. Niall sank down into one rickety kitchen chair at their small, round table as Harry prepared their coffee.

“Still think you’re crazy,” Niall mumbled, watching Harry carry their drinks to the table.

“Had a feeling you might say that,” Harry replied cheerfully. He took a small sip of his coffee. “Have you been secretly talking with my mum again?”

“No,” Niall frowned grumpily. “Not since…you know.”

_ Since you and Louis broke up,  _ Harry inferred from the stilted silence.

“And now you’re going on a romantic holiday together, and it’s gonna be a train wreck.”

“Heyyy,” Harry protested. “Why does everyone think it’ll be terrible?”

“Because I know you. And Louis. And frolicking through the Italian countryside instead of talking things out is bound to be a disaster.”

“I don’t think it’s physically possible for anyone to be unhappy in Italy,” Harry mused. “But you’ll see. We’ll have a good, platonic time, and then part ways again happily, and then I can move on with my life.”

Niall frowned across the table dubiously. “Right. Okay.”

“Seriously,” Harry insisted, carefully setting his coffee mug on the worn Formica table top. “Don’t you think we can keep it at least cordial for two weeks?”

Niall shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think. You’re the one who’s gonna have to live with him again after six months.”

“He agreed to come on the trip,” Harry reminded Niall. “He can’t hate me completely.”

“It’s a fine line between love and hate,” Niall replied sagely. “You’re either going to get locked up for your constant bickering, or come back wearing matching rings. Maybe both.”

Harry chuckled and raised his coffee mug in salute. “Here’s to adventure, then.”

Niall rolled his eyes fondly, and raised his mug to clink against Harry’s. “Adventure,” he echoed. “God help us all.”

*

Sooner than he could have believed possible, Harry was standing in the kitchen again with a suitcase, a camera bag, and his favorite navy coat folded neatly over his arm. As he watched Niall assess his progress, Harry felt a little like a kid on the first day of school. Only instead of his mother fretting over him and making sure he had everything he needed, it was his best friend.

“Passport?” Niall asked, reading off the checklist they had made together.

“Check,” Harry replied dutifully.

“Money and debit card?”

“Check and check.”

“Your sanity?”

“Ha ha, Niall. Yes, check,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Just saying. Okay, let’s see…map and itinerary?”

“Check,” Harry answered, patting the pocket of his coat where his map and trip itinerary were stashed.

“Good. Umm, okay. Toothbrush?” Niall asked, shooting Harry a warning stare. “You always forget that.”

“Double checked I had it,” Harry grinned proudly. “Is that everything?”

Niall hummed as he scanned the list. “Looks like it. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?”

“Nah, it’s easier if I just take a taxi,” Harry replied. “But thank you.”

“You’ll call me when you get there?” Niall asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “And I’ll be texting you to fill you in on what we do.”

Niall cracked a smile. “I’m counting on it. I want a picture of the Eiffel Tower.”

“Done,” Harry promised with a grin. “Am I ready?”

“You tell me,” Niall countered, mirroring his grin. “Ready to spend two weeks with your ex doing god knows what in exciting locations?”

Harry bit his lip to contain his grin. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then you’re good to go. Be safe. Have fun. Don’t talk to strangers. Or do—yolo and all that,” Niall quipped.

“Maybe I’ll find the love of my life,” Harry mused excitedly.

“Maybe. But if you don’t, you’ll always have me. Now give me a hug.”

Harry wrapped Niall in a bone-crushing hug and murmured, “Love you.”

“Love you too. Now go, before I get emotional,” Niall joked, while wiping what looked suspiciously like a tear from his eye.

“Going, going, gone,” Harry said, flashing a bright smile. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“How can I miss you if you don’t leave?” Niall asked, fixing Harry with an unimpressed stare. “Go, before you lose your nerve.”

Harry’s smile softened, and he was glad he had a best friend who knew him as well as Niall did. Despite their banter, Niall was always looking out for him. Harry just nodded and stepped across the threshold, swallowing down his nerves. It would be fun, right? He and Louis could manage to be civil as they toured the most beautiful cities in Europe. They were adults, after all.

Harry carried his luggage down to the waiting taxi and cast one long look back at their building. Was it possible to already be homesick? Harry shook the thought from his mind and climbed into the backseat of the cab, resolving to have as much fun as possible on this trip. What had Niall said? Yolo? That was an idea Harry could get behind. He just hoped Louis was on board, too. 

*

The first leg of their trip was a two and a half hour flight from Heathrow to Fiumicino in Rome. While the taxi carried Harry closer to the airport, he perused his Italy travel book for the hundredth time. Harry smiled as he flipped through dog-eared and highlighted pages that he had been poring over for the past two weeks. There were so many places he wanted to see, and so many things he wanted to experience. He wanted to walk among the ruins of the Roman Forum, and drink cappuccino like a local, and people watch in a crowded piazza. 

Amidst his excitement for the trip, Harry spared a moment to imagine what doing all this with Louis would be like. They had always daydreamed about traveling together, back when they were dating. And although the circumstances may have changed some--namely, the fact that they hadn’t spoken in half a year--Harry was an optimist. He watched the familiar sights of London pass outside the taxi window as he repeated the mantra that had been keeping him sane for the past two weeks, since seeing Louis for the first time in six months:

_ Louis is not the one. But you can still be friends. _

His arrival at the airport startled Harry out of his musings. He slid the travel book inside his coat pocket, unloaded his luggage, and wheeled it towards the check-in counter. Harry handed his bag over to the attendant, checked in, and then joined the line at security. Louis had texted him the night before to plan where they would meet up inside the airport, since their tickets were together.

As Harry waited in the slow-moving line, he wondered if Louis had had any second thoughts about the trip. Had he, like Harry, chatted on the phone with his worried mum as he debated what to pack? Or had he waited until the last minute and thrown some clothes in a suitcase at random?

After Harry successfully passed through security, he strolled through the terminal, neatly stepping out of the way of people in a hurry. Maybe he was nervous, after all, but once again, Harry was early. When he saw the sign for Starbucks, he veered to the left and cut a path through the crowd.

Harry spotted Louis at one of the small tables, studying his phone intently. A half-empty cup of tea sat beside him. Louis seemed oblivious to the sights and sounds around him; he didn’t appear to notice the long line at the Starbucks counter, or the shrill voices of a group of teenagers giggling over Snapchat filters at the next table over. So when Harry traced his way over to Louis’ table, he was surprised to hear Louis speak without ever looking up.

“On a scale of one to ten, how crazy are we for doing this?”

Harry stared in surprise, and watched in amusement as Louis kicked out the chair opposite his. Louis finally looked up, meeting Harry’s wide-eyed expression with a wry smile. It took a moment for Harry to find his voice.

“I’d say a seven, give or take.”

“Hmm. I can work with a seven,” Louis mused, nodding for Harry to take a seat.

Harry smiled tentatively and sat down across from Louis. “Good tea?” he asked, gesturing to Louis’ drink.

Louis shrugged and then nodded. “Not bad. Do you want to get a coffee?”

Harry glanced at the line, which had barely moved since he arrived. “Nah, it’s too early to stand in a line that long.”

Louis checked the time on his phone, then looked at Harry. “Speaking of early, I can’t believe we’re both here half an hour before we need to be at our gate.”

“Right?” Harry chuckled. “Look at us, being proper adults.”

“So…” Louis replied, and the word trailed off into silence.

“So?” Harry asked, pulling out his phone at the sound of a notification. He frowned at the message Niall had just sent, and rolled his eyes.

_ What are you going to do for 2.5 hours sitting next to Louis on a plane? _

It wasn’t as if Harry hadn’t thought of that; he figured the two of them could catch up during the flight. Maybe get the awkward moments out of the way so they could enjoy the trip.

“Niall?” Louis guessed, gesturing to Harry’s phone.

Harry met Louis’ eyes across the table. “How’d you know?”

Louis smiled slowly as he spoke. “You get this look on your face like the one you have when talking about your sister. I don’t know. Kind of fond and annoyed at the same time.”

It was the most Louis had spoken since Harry arrived, and in the silence that followed, Louis’ cheeks turned pink under Harry’s gaze.

“I never noticed,” Harry confessed, pocketing his phone. “That’s funny.”

Louis looked down at the slightly sticky table top and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“So,” Harry mused, propping his chin in his palm as he contemplated the slightly awkward silence that followed. “Which place are you most excited to see?”

Louis looked up with a bright smile. “Amsterdam, I think. What’s yours? Wait, let me guess,” he said, smile widening. “Paris.”

Harry grinned and felt like blushing, of all things. He was surprised Louis still had that effect on him after all this time.

“How did you know?” Harry asked, noting a sparkle of amusement in Louis’ blue eyes.

“Because I know,” Louis replied, and the “you” was implied.

_ Because I know you. _

For a moment, they just stared at each other, smiling. And everything around Harry faded into the background--the noisy teenagers at the next table, the constant announcements on the speakers overhead, the sound of the coffee machine whirring to life--it was just static in Harry’s mind. Unbidden, images of a conversation with Louis flooded his memory. They had talked about Paris before, when they were together. Harry had been fairly obsessed with the idea of seeing the city with Louis. Harry had a flash then of a chilly afternoon curled up on the couch with Louis under the duvet they had pulled off the bed, dreaming about the places they could go. That conversation had led to some embarrassing confessions on Harry’s part about the things he wanted to do with--and to--Louis in Paris. And that was absolutely not a memory to bring up around your ex at nine in the morning. Harry gulped and locked that memory inside of a steel vault in his mind, only to be examined in private. Just like that, the noisy surroundings came back to Harry, and he snapped out of his daze. This was not the time. He glanced at Louis to find him staring curiously back at him.

“Are you back? You kind of spaced out there,” Louis said.

Harry shook his head, as if to rid his mind of the memories now locked away. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m not as awake as I thought.” He dropped his gaze, sure if Louis looked closely enough, he could see Harry’s thoughts. Harry twisted the silver rose ring on his finger, avoiding Louis’ eyes.

“Hmm,” Louis replied, sounding like he didn’t quite buy Harry’s excuse. Mercifully, he didn’t call Harry out on it.

“So I was thinking,” Louis said, changing the subject, “about ways to pay you back. Other than merely blessing you with my company,” he quipped.

Harry raised his eyes in confusion. “Pay me back?”

“Yeah,” Louis replied, lacing his fingers together neatly on the table top. “For the trip.”

Harry frowned. “But I told you already, it’s all paid for and settled.”

Louis grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, no. I don’t think that’s fair to you. So, I was thinking,” he said, raising a finger for Harry to let him finish speaking when Harry opened his mouth to object. “I could pay for meals and drinks and things, like things not covered in the trip cost.”

Harry tilted his head in consideration. “Maybe. I guess.”

“I can work with maybe,” Louis nodded in finality. “Good.”

“So,” Harry said, glancing at his phone screen. “Should we head to our gate?”

Louis checked his own phone and nodded. “Sure.”

Harry watched as Louis stood and carried his unfinished tea to a rubbish bin. He wove his way around the tables with a grace that Harry could only dream of. When he returned, Louis picked up his carry on, a blue backpack with frayed straps. Combined with the slightly oversized grey sweater he had paired with faded skinny jeans, Louis looked like he was off to a lecture at Uni instead of a business-class flight to Italy. He glanced at Harry with raised eyebrows, and Harry realized he had been staring.

“Um, yes,” Harry said, standing quickly. “Let’s go.”

Harry carefully carried his camera bag and coat through the crowded terminal as he kept pace with Louis. Although significantly shorter, Louis made up for his size with long, confident strides while walking. In contrast, Harry tended to meander and trip along at his own pace. But he did his best to keep up today.

When they reached their gate, Louis turned to Harry expectantly.

“Tickets?” he asked.

Harry nodded eagerly and pulled the boarding passes out of his pocket. He handed one to Louis, who scanned the information on the ticket.

“Business class, H? Nice.”

Harry coughed uncomfortably and nodded. “Um, yeah. Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Definitely not complaining,” Louis amended quickly. “Thank you. Should we grab a seat near the line?”

Harry agreed, and they walked closer to the small podium where an attendant was preparing to call for the first class of passengers. They found two vacant seats across from one another. As they waited, Louis typed out a few messages on his phone. Harry quelled the impulse to feel jealous; he was, after all, about to have Louis’ undivided attention for two weeks. He could give the man some space now.

Without looking up, Louis spoke. “Does your mum think this is as crazy as mine does?”

Harry grinned and nodded his head yes. “You could say that.”

“And your friends?” Louis asked.

“Yep.”

“Same,” Louis replied, mirroring Harry’s smile. “But I don’t know...I’m just excited. When else am I gonna have the opportunity to do this, you know?”

“Yeah!” Harry agreed. “And I kind of need a holiday anyway.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “Work going okay?”

Harry flushed under Louis’ scrutiny. “Yeah, it is. Fine, really--just busy.”

“I know the feeling.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Practicum?”

Louis opened his mouth to respond, and was interrupted by the attendant’s voice amplified over a microphone.

“Now boarding first class to Da Vinci Fiumicino airport!”

Harry tore his gaze away from Louis to watch a small group of people form a line. The attendant scanned their tickets, and they crossed through the terminal door. He gestured to Louis for them to join the line, and Louis nodded and stood. When the attendant called for business class, Harry and Louis were ready in line.

They waited for the attendant to scan their tickets, and then passed through the door to the ramp that led to the plane. Louis hitched his backpack higher up and turned to Harry.

“I never asked--have you been to Rome before?”

“No,” Harry replied, tucking his ticket into his back pocket. “Always wanted to, though. You?”

“Nah. I’m excited, though.”

Harry smiled. “Me too.”

Together, they crossed the threshold of the plane and shuffled down the narrow aisle toward their seats. Harry was trailing behind Louis, who turned when they neared their row.

“Window or aisle?” Louis asked, gesturing to the seats.

Harry bit his lip in thought. “Aisle, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Louis replied with a shrug. He stashed his backpack under the seat in front of the window seat, and then sat down.

Harry followed him into their row of seats. Since they were in business class, there was plenty of legroom in each row. Harry mentally congratulated himself for his planning skills as he took his seat next to Louis. He watched in amusement as Louis pushed the long sleeves of his sweater down over his delicate hands to buckle his seatbelt. Harry didn’t comment, but watched with raised brows, hiding a fond smile.

Louis glanced up when his seatbelt closed with a neat click to find Harry staring. “What? You know how many germs are on a plane?” he whispered, cutting his eyes around the cabin.

Harry smiled slowly. “I am aware,” he whispered back, leaning close to Louis’ ear. “I also brought some disinfectant wipes and hand sanitizer, just in case. Think we’re covered.”

Louis’ cheeks turned a curious shade of pink. “Great, now you tell me,” he quipped. “Were you waiting to see if I could actually do it first?”

Harry’s smile widened. “I had full confidence in you.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Just then, the flight attendant strode to the front of the cabin with the safety brochure and a demo seatbelt. She began a short lecture on the importance of following safety precautions, and Harry gradually tuned her out. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Louis once again covered his fingers with his sweater sleeves to flip down the tray table in front of him. Harry bit back a grin and had to physically turn his head away to stop from giggling. Some things never changed.

_ “What are you looking at?” Louis asked, squeezing a healthy amount of hand sanitizer into his palm. _

_ He had been perusing the menu their hostess had brought to the table, and then folded it neatly near the edge of the table. And then promptly pulled a small squeeze bottle of Germ-Ex out of thin air, it seemed. It was their first date. _

_ “Did you just wash your hands because you touched the menu?” Harry asked with amusement. _

_ Louis raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “Well, Harold,” he replied, still rubbing his hands together to absorb the liquid. “Have you ever seen someone wash the menus?” _

_ “I...no. I haven’t,” Harry admitted with a shrug. _

_ “Well, there you go,” Louis replied smugly. _

_ “...but how do you wash a menu?” Harry asked.  _

_ “Exactly,” Louis said, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t.” Louis extended a hand to Harry, offering his hand sanitizer. _

_ Harry grinned and took it, studying Louis’ seemingly-tiny hand, which now smelled lemon fresh. “Um, thanks.” _

_ “I’m not crazy,” Louis explained, as if reading Harry’s mind. “I work with kids, who happen to be walking petri dishes of germs. Why increase my odds of getting sick any more than I have to?” _

_ Harry had shrugged, then nodded slowly. “Makes sense.” _

_ “Don’t get me wrong, I love them. I just don’t love their strep bacteria.” _

_ “Hey,” Harry said with a placating smile, “this is a judgment-free zone.” _

_ Louis, who had just taken a sip of his ice water, snorted out loud. His eyes widened, and he covered his mouth delicately. “Sorry. God. That’s funny.” _

_ Harry nodded sagely in thanks. “Safe spaces are important--safe, and germ-free.” _

_ Louis raised his water glass in salute. “I’ll drink to that! Cheers.” _

_ Harry grinned and clinked his glass against Louis’, already completely endeared. “Cheers, mate.” _

Harry sighed fondly at the memory. He had really gotten along well with Louis since the very beginning; they occasionally teased each other for their quirks, like Louis’ germ phobia, as Harry called it, but at the end of the day, is was all in fun. Harry spared a thought for how the rest of their first date had unfolded. The way Louis had suddenly seemed shy when he wordlessly offered Harry his phone to type in his number; the way the streetlights had illuminated the curve of Louis’ cheekbone as they waited for a taxi outside the restaurant. The way Harry had fidgeted with his phone, wishing he could magically make the night longer. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Louis, afraid he might vanish in a puff of smoke.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Harry jerked back to reality and quickly turned to face Louis, who was giving him a bemused smile.

“I did it again, didn’t I?” Harry asked with a rueful smile. “Sorry.”

“One day, you’ll have to tell me where you’re zoning out to,” Louis replied lightly. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Harry was spared from answering by the conclusion of the safety lecture. Most of the passengers were on their phones or already flipping through the options on the TVs in front of them. Harry watched Louis switch his phone to airplane mode, and grabbed his own phone to do the same. 

“So,” Louis said, pocketing his phone. “Tell me more about this tour group you signed up for.”

Harry nodded and stretched his legs out in the gloriously ample leg space in front of him. “It sounded really nice, when I was researching touring options. Called ‘Sunset Tours,’ I’m guessing because they save the nicest views or spots for sunset each day. No other company does anything like that. When we arrive in Rome, we’ll check in to our hotel and then meet the tour group in the conference room. They have an informational meeting, and they’ll be handing out the itineraries then.”

“Sounds cool,” Louis said with a nod. “And we’ll be two days in each place?”

“Yep. In addition to the scheduled stops, there should be some flex time each day to do our own thing. If you want.”

“Nice,” Louis replied. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

Harry flushed under Louis’ gaze. “Just seemed like fun, I guess.”

“It will be,” Louis promised. “When I’m not giving you hell, that is.”

Harry chuckled. “I expect nothing less.”

They settled into silence as the plane began a slow taxi down the runway. Amidst his flying jitters, excitement filled Harry’s chest. He was going to Rome. With Louis. And it was going to be awesome, so Niall and his mother could just relax for once. What could possibly go wrong?

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

II.

 

Rome

 

“Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow.”

~Anita Desai

 

Harry awoke with a start to the feeling of someone pulling out his left earbud and saying, “Harry, we’re here.”

Harry gasped and whipped his head around to find Louis smiling guiltily and holding the missing earbud.

“Jesus. You scared me,” Harry mumbled, letting his head thump back against the soft headrest.

“I poked you like, five times,” Louis replied, carefully handing back Harry’s earbud, which was still playing the Avett Brothers. “Forgot what a heavy sleeper you are.”

Harry shifted in his seat to grab his phone, which had fallen down beside his thigh, in order to turn off the music.

“Didn’t mean to go to sleep,” Harry admitted. He had fully intended to use the flight time to Rome to catch up with Louis.

Rome.

“Did you say we’re here?” Harry asked, peering around Louis to look out the window.

“Yep. You slept through the landing; go figure.”

Harry turned back to face Louis. “Sorry. I wanted to talk to you, you know, kind of catch up and everything…”

Louis chuckled. “Hey, it’s okay, Harry. We have two weeks to catch up, right? Let’s talk later.”

“Right,” Harry said with a faint smile. “Later.”

The captain’s voice came over the speakers then to announce that it was noon in Rome and a refreshing 18 degrees celsius outside. Harry peered out the small cabin window to see the sun peeking out behind a cluster of clouds. He retrieved a pair of sunglasses out of his carry on, along with his Italian phrasebook. He turned to Louis to find him staring curiously.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Louis said, shaking his head. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

A protest was on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but then Louis’ face creased into a fond smile, and Harry realized it was only light teasing. So Harry smiled back and shrugged.

When the flight attendant gave the passengers permission to deplane, Harry stood and hung his sunglasses on the neckline of his sweater. Despite the lingering drowsiness from his nap, Harry felt excitement bloom. He flashed a smile at Louis. 

“Ready?” he asked.

Louis grinned and nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

Harry nodded once, and then turned forward to navigate the aisle and exit the plane. He led Louis up a ramp to the terminal door, and then pulled out his phone to check the hotel address.

“So where are we headed?” Louis asked, watching Harry.

“Looks like,” Harry said, squinting at the fine print, “the Boscolo Exedra Roma.” He looked up and shrugged. “Want to grab a taxi?”

Louis agreed, and together they followed the signs that read “Uscita” to exit the terminal and grab their luggage. When they crossed the crowded lobby, they saw a row of vacant cabs waiting outside at the curb. Louis picked one, and Harry repeated their hotel location.

“Va bene,” a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair replied. “Andiamo.” He helped load their luggage into the boot of the car, and then Louis and Harry climbed in the backseat.

Harry resolutely did not think back to the times sharing a taxi home with Louis after pub nights when they were pleasantly tipsy and climbing all over each other. Nope. He pulled out his Italian phrasebook and looked up how to say “move on.”

_ Vai avanti.  _ Yes. Harry was going to vai avanti his way across Europe and avoid further flashbacks. No more awkward or inappropriate memories, thanks.

Thanks.  _ Grazie. _

“Learning anything?” Louis asked, breaking the silence which so far had only been punctuated by the driver humming along to Amy Winehouse’s “Back to Black,” curiously enough.

Harry looked up to meet Louis’ inquisitive blue eyes and smiled. “So far. Ask me something you want to say.”

“Hmm…” Louis mused. “How about ‘May I have a cup of tea?’”

Harry flipped through the phrasebook for a moment. “Let’s see. Okay, here it is:  _ Posso avere una tazza di te?” _

“How about, ‘How much does it cost?’” Louis continued.

“Okay,” Harry said, searching the most commonly used phrases section. “It’s  _ Quanto costa.  _ Why? Planning on doing a lot of shopping?”

Louis shook his head but smiled. “Nah. My sisters want authentic Italian purses though. And we both know how you are with shoes, so I thought it would be good to know.”

“Excuse you, I haven’t bought shoes in months,” Harry countered with mock outrage. His smile betrayed the sentiment though.

“But you’ve window shopped,” Louis replied confidently. “Bet you a penny you have.”

“Well,” Harry sniffed, turning his nose up. “I happen to be saving my pennies so I won’t take that bet. Not that you’re right.”

Louis chuckled. “Right, right. I see how it is.”

The banter flowed so easily between them, that it was as if no time had passed since they last truly spoke. Harry repeated his mantra he had coined in London.

_ Louis is not the one. But you can still be friends. _

Harry glanced out the window at the change in scenery from somewhat rural to more urban. The traffic became more congested as they neared the historic center of Rome, and the taxi driver began to mutter under his breath.

“Piazza della Repubblica. Dio mio.” And then to Louis and Harry, he added, “almost there.”

Harry caught Louis’ expression out of the corner of his eye, and they shared an amused smile.

“Thank you,” Louis replied to the driver. Harry echoed his thanks as well.

Harry could feel the vibrations under his feet the moment the taxi turned onto a cobbled street. The piazza where their hotel was located featured a fountain in the middle, while Fiats and taxis zoomed in the circle around it.

“Ecco,” the driver said in relief, pulling up to the curb of a grandiose-looking hotel. “Here we are.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, then turned to face Harry. “Oh my god,” he mouthed, clearly impressed.

Harry shrugged, going for casual, but he knew his eyes were too excited to pull it off. He slid out of the taxi and watched as the driver unloaded their bags in record time. Louis pulled out some of the money they had changed at the airport, against Harry’s protest, and paid the driver. With a salute and a “Buona fortuna,” he cast one more disparaging look at the traffic swirling around them and climbed into the car.

“Fortuna,” Louis repeated, turning to face Harry as the driver zipped out into traffic and sped away. “Do you think that means luck?”

Harry resisted the urge to look it up in his phrasebook, not wanting to look any more like a tourist than he already did. Instead, he pondered it for a moment.

“Maybe...but we don’t need it. You’ll see; this is gonna be great,” Harry replied with confidence. Then he led Louis inside to the hotel lobby.

And his jaw promptly dropped.

“Dio mio,” Harry breathed, echoing the driver minutes before. He tried not to look too in awe as his eyes scanned the interior of the hotel.

The oval-shaped lobby featured elaborate crown molding details around the arched doorways, crystal chandeliers, and a spotless marble floor with golden design inlaid. To one side, a wide concierge desk stood, and across the room round glass tables and mahogany-detailed chairs were artfully arranged. It was so bright and spacious that Harry felt as if he had stepped into an alternate reality.

“Harry,” Louis hissed under his breath, breaking Harry’s focus.

Harry turned to find Louis with an urgent, wide-eyed stare. He was fidgeting nervously with the frayed straps of his backpack.

“Hmm?” Harry asked.

“Harry, why didn’t you warn me this place was so...so fancy? I’m wearing my oldest jeans. They’re going to kick us out!” Louis whispered, cutting his eyes around the palatial lobby.

“Shh, no they’re not. Half of it is just pretending you belong. Let’s just go ask for the room key, okay?” Harry murmured, trying to placate Louis.

Louis sighed and hung his head, but eventually nodded. Harry took that as acquiescence, and strode across the polished marble floor to the concierge. The man behind the desk, dressed in a tailored navy suit, looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and smiled.

“How can I help you?” he said in accented English, smiling mildly.

“Hi!” Harry replied. “Checking in, please.”

The concierge raised his brows at the casually-clothed Harry and Louis, but didn’t comment. Instead, he slid a leather-bound book across the desk and politely asked, “Name?”

“It’s um, Harry Styles,” Harry replied, trying to sound more confident than he was feeling.

The concierge nodded and scanned the open book for the name. Then he looked up with a smile.

“Welcome, Mr. Styles,” he said. “Let me get your keys.”

Harry glanced at Louis to find him chewing his lip nervously, still looking as if he fully expected someone to escort them out at any moment.

When the concierge returned, he added, “Everything is in order, Mr. Styles. My name is Flavio, if I can be of any assistance to you during your stay.”

Harry smiled and carefully accepted a small packet containing key cards. “Thank you. Actually, um, we’re expected at a meeting soon. Can you tell us where it is?”

Flavio pursed his lips in thought, and then glanced back at his book. “Sunset Tours? Yes, they are meeting in the conference room at 2 pm. I’d be glad to give you directions.”

Harry took mental notes as Flavio instructed them on how to find the conference room, and then thanked the concierge.

“Welcome to the Boscolo Exedra Roma,” Flavio replied. “Enjoy your stay.”

Harry and Louis murmured their thanks, and then turned to wheel their luggage to an elevator across the lobby.

“We’re in,” Harry whispered victoriously into Louis’ ear as they crossed the immaculate marble floor. “Told you.”

Louis chuckled as they reached the elevator and he pushed the up button. “Smooth, Styles.”

“Thank you.”

When the elevator doors slid open, they stepped inside and pushed the button for the third floor. Harry fiddled with the key cards as he reflected on the grandeur of the hotel.

“So,” he said, slouching against the back wall. “This is going better than I expected.”

Louis met his eyes and grinned. “I’m not saying I was expecting a sketchy hostel across town--”

“Hey!” Harry protested.

“...but this honestly exceeds expectations,” Louis concluded, laughing.

The elevator dinged when it reached the third floor, and they exited onto a plush, carpeted hallway. For some reason, Harry had the urge to whisper as he informed Louis of the room number. The hotel was just so stately, he didn’t want to intrude on its dignified silence.

They trudged down the hallway until they reached room 312. Harry used the key card to open the door with a precise click, and then stepped across the threshold. He couldn’t contain the low whistle he let out when he flipped the light switch. 

The spacious room featured the same artistic crown molding around the walls, which were covered in luxurious beige and cream striped wallpaper that must have cost more than Harry’s rent. A large king bed was situated in the middle, and two antique-looking chairs were paired across from it. A large flat-screen TV rested on a marble-topped table beside the chairs, and behind it, a partially-covered window looked down on the historic city center below.

Harry was afraid to touch anything.

He didn’t realize he had come to a sudden halt until Louis bumped into his back with a soft “oof.”

“Harry, wha--” Louis began, but his voice trailed off when he glimpsed the room. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” was all Harry could reply, as he took a tentative step further into the room. He carefully wheeled his luggage toward the wall opposite the bed.

Bed. Singular.

Harry could tell the moment that fact clicked with Louis.

“Um, Harry,” Louis asked, stepping around Harry to deposit his bags next to Harry’s, “there’s only one bed.”

Harry quelled the panic rising in his throat. Of course there was only one bed; it was what he had ordered when he and Louis were still dating. Thank god he had opted out of the complimentary rose petals and champagne when he booked the trip. He suspected that wouldn’t go over well with Louis.

“I, um,” Harry replied, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks, “see that. Sorry.”

Louis seemed to come to the same conclusion Harry had. “I mean, I guess at the time you ordered it…” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” Harry replied faintly, sinking down on the edge of the feather-soft bed. “I know.”

“Well,” Louis said decisively, “it will have to do. I mean, we’re both adults; I don’t see why we can’t…”

“Right,” Harry agreed quickly, smoothing his hands over the pristine cream duvet. “And look how big it is. You can’t kick me from that far away.”

“Excuse you, but I do not kick,” Louis said tartly, crossing his arms. “And besides, you snore.”

“Do not!” Harry countered. 

“Do so.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway,” Louis said, dragging out each syllable of the word, “how long do we have until the meeting? Long enough to grab a smoke?”

Harry checked the time on his phone. “Forty-five minutes. So yes. But Lou--” he replied uncertainly. “I don’t think you can smoke in here.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Look, I’ll open the window. See?” Louis said, unlocking the latch on the window and swinging it open. Faint sounds of traffic reached Harry’s ears moments later.

“Well,” Harry replied, “I guess…”

“Hmm?” Louis asked, already lighting up and taking a long drag from his cigarette. He leaned his head out the window to exhale the smoke.

“Nothing,” Harry answered, figuring if the smoke alarms and sprinklers went off, it was all on Louis. He typed out a quick message to Niall as Louis smoked out the window.

_ Save me, there’s only one bed. _

A moment later, Harry saw that Niall was typing a response.

_ Nice one. Too bad you still snore. _

“I do not snore!” Harry grumbled to no one in particular. He typed back a frowny face to Niall and then tossed his phone on the plush duvet. He slipped his boots off, then flopped back on the bed with his arms stretched wide. It felt like he was sinking into a cloud.

Harry stared up at the recessed tray ceiling with yet more crown molding where a chandelier hung. He blinked against the soft light, tempted to doze off for just a moment. Louis returned from the window just then, and carefully closed and locked it back. He surveyed Harry sprawled out on the bed and tilted his head curiously.

“Napping again, H?”

Harry met his eyes, blinking slowly. “And miss this tour meeting? Not a chance.”

“Hop up, then. Come on,” Louis coaxed.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked around a yawn.

“Exploring,” Louis replied primly. “Move it, Styles. Let’s go.”

Harry sighed but sat up and went about putting his boots back on. He looked up expectantly at Louis. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Obviously.”

“So, no then.”

“Ha ha. Alright, up you go,” Louis chuckled. He waited patiently as Harry stood, stretched, and shuffled towards the door.

“Adventure awaits, Harold,” Louis said with a mysterious smile. “Follow me.”

*

Adventure with Louis, Harry soon found, consisted of strolling the halls looking for vending machines and an ice maker.

“Louis,” Harry sighed for the third time since this excursion began, “I really think hotels this nice don’t have vending machines. I think you have to order food to your room.”

Louis huffed and threw a withering glance over his shoulder. “Says you. And here I was going to treat you to a Coke and a Snickers.”

“Maybe there will be snacks at the meeting?” Harry mused as they rounded yet another corner to find the same high-end wallpaper and carpeting as before. This was going nowhere.

“Did the room at least have a mini-bar?” Louis asked distractedly, trying the handle on a door clearly marked “Staff.” Finding it locked, he shook his head and turned to face Harry.

“I didn’t look, honestly,” Harry admitted. “We can check when we come back from the meeting.”

Louis’ shoulders sagged in defeat, but eventually he nodded. “Okay. Should we head down to the conference room then?”

Harry glanced at the time on his phone, and then nodded. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Together, they traced their way back to the elevator and pushed the down button.

Inside, surrounded by spotless mirrors, Harry examined his rumpled sweater and messy curls. He pulled an elastic off his wrist and then twisted his hair up in a bun. He glanced over at Louis to find him already staring.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Nothing. Your hair is longer, wow,” Louis replied. His eyes scanned Harry’s hair, and then landed on his face. “Looks nice.”

Harry smiled self-consciously. “Thank you.”

Louis cleared his throat and looked away. “So...I’m kind of excited to see the trip itinerary.”

“Me too!” Harry agreed, glad the awkward moment had passed. “There’s so much I want to see.”

As the elevator doors slid open into the grandiose lobby, Harry and Louis walked across the shiny marble floors to the door that led to the conference room.

“Yeah,” Louis replied in a subdued voice, aware of the fancy surroundings. “And maybe we’ll make some friends in the tour group?”

“I hope so!” Harry said eagerly. “Here we are.”

They paused outside the ajar door of the conference room, where a voice was already speaking.

“Shit, are we late?” Louis whispered.

“By one minute,” Harry whispered back. “Guess they like to be punctual.”

He shared a concerned look with Louis, and then pushed the door open. And then froze.

For the second time that day, Louis bumped into Harry’s back at the abrupt stop.

“What the hell?” Louis muttered, steadying himself on his feet. He followed Harry’s gaze into the conference room, where twenty sets of eyes were staring curiously at them.

“What the fuck?” Louis said faintly, blinking wide-eyed at the group assembled there. “Harry?”

Harry regained his voice and leaned closer to Louis’ ear to whisper, “No idea. Come on, follow me.”

“But Harry, they’re all--”

“Shh, I know. Come on,” Harry replied under his breath.

Harry was utterly perplexed, standing in the doorway of a formal conference room. A conference room currently filled with senior citizens.

Senior citizens that were staring owlishly right back at them.

Harry pressed a hand lightly at Louis’ lower back, and took a step into the room. The group leader, who was standing at the front of the room and also staring, finally spoke.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?”

Louis’ mouth was still hanging open in shock, so Harry attempted to answer. “We’re here for the tour meeting. Are we...is this the right place?”

“Sunset Tours?” the leader asked, raising his white eyebrows in surprise. “Yes.”

“We’re, um, here for the tour,” Harry said, feeling everyone’s eyes, including Louis’, on him. “Sorry we’re late.”

The leader stared open-mouthed for a moment before finding his voice. “I see. Well, this is quite...unusual...but please do join us. Have a seat. Names?”

“Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson,” Harry replied breathlessly, taking another step into the room.

The group leader scanned a list in front of him with narrowed eyes, and then shrugged. “I’ve got you here, indeed. Come on in, and find a seat. We’re just getting started.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmured, shooting a confused look at Louis, who still hadn’t moved an inch. He tapped Louis back twice, and Louis slowly turned to face Harry. His confusion clearly mirrored Harry’s, and everyone else in the room. Eventually, Louis’ dazed blue eyes cleared, and then narrowed slightly. And that was a look Harry recognized; he was immensely glad they were in public and Louis couldn’t berate him in front of all these people.

These old people. Jesus.

It didn’t click for Harry until he and Louis were seated in the back row next to a couple that were staring openly at them. The tour guide, who introduced himself as Bob, continued his speech.

“Right, so. As I was saying, while we may be in the ‘sunset’ of our lives, we can still explore our adventurous sides.”

Sunset of our lives? Oh. Thus, Sunset Tours.

Harry knew the moment Louis recognized Harry’s mistake. He groaned and buried his face in his hand. Wordlessly, he kicked Harry’s shin and sighed. Then he slowly looked up at Harry.

“You’re dead,” he mouthed to Harry, expression entirely serious.

Harry winced and shrugged while Bob expounded on the virtues of travel for the young at heart. They were already here; what else were they supposed to do?

“Sunset Tours, Harry? Oh my god,” Louis hissed under his breath.

Louis shook his head slowly, and then turned to face Bob, who was handing out stacks of itineraries. Harry knew his error in booking the tour was grave, but he had the sudden impulse to laugh. It had been an honest mistake; besides, one day they would surely laugh about this. That is, if Louis ever spoke to Harry again.

Bob made it to their row and passed out the stapled itineraries. When Harry looked up, Bob was smiling amusedly. His brown eyes sparkled with mirth under white bushy brows, and crow’s feet framed his eyes. Harry liked him instantly. 

“Unusual though it may be,” Bob said jovially, “I think having some young folks around will be good for all of us. Might keep some of us from getting cranky.”

Harry smiled weakly and nodded his thanks as he accepted the itinerary. He could feel Louis’ eyes on him, but honestly didn’t know what to tell him. So Harry scanned through the trip itinerary instead.

Under Day 1, Rome, Bob had scheduled the meeting and then free time for dinner. The next day’s adventures were to start in the lobby at 8 a.m.

Bob returned to the front of the room, where he pulled out a stack of tickets. “As part of the trip cost, you will all have access to public transport in each city. Here are your tickets for Rome.”

Bob handed out the tickets, then lectured a few minutes more on the virtues of sticking together while sightseeing and not talking to strangers. When he concluded the meeting, the couple to Harry’s left that had been watching them occasionally leaned closer.

“Psst, young man,” the woman began. “Ignore anyone who gives you a hard time. We’re so pleased you’re here! My name is Ruth, and this is my husband, James.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said, taking in the couple’s white hair and bifocals. “We’re, um, Harry and Louis.”

James leaned across his wife to extend a hand to shake. “Glad to have you,” he replied. “Is this your first time touring with Sunset?”

“You could say that,” Louis mumbled under his breath. Harry elbowed him and then addressed James.

“Yes, it is. You?”

“Oh, we like to go every year, when our health permits,” Ruth gushed. “Last time we went to Greece!”

Harry couldn’t help but feel fondness for the older couple. “That sounds amazing!”

“And you know,” Ruth said, lowering her voice and leaning closer, “we’re very progressive. Feel free to be yourselves here.”

“This is a--what did Chris call it?--a ‘judgment free zone,’” James continued. “Chris is our granddaughter. Very bright.”

“She takes after her grandmother,” Ruth replied with a wink. “What are you doing for dinner tonight? You’re welcome to join us.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Louis cut in. “Actually, we have plans.”

Harry frowned at Louis in confusion, and Louis glared at him imploringly. Finally, Harry shrugged and turned to face the elderly couple.

“Can we take a rain check? We’d love to get to know you better,” Harry replied.

“Of course,” Ruth chirped. “We’ll hold you to that!”

“Ruth, dear,” James said fondly, “let the young people go have fun.” He turned to face Harry and Louis. “We’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Sounds great, thanks!”

He had no sooner spoken that he felt Louis tugging impatiently at his arm. Harry bid the couple goodnight, and then stumbled to his feet and followed Louis. When they had crossed the threshold, Louis strode to the elevator and smacked the up button a little harder than necessary.

The doors opened, and Harry followed Louis into the elevator. Louis’ expression was carefully arranged into a bland smile, and he even nodded goodnight to some of the other tour group members passing by. When the doors slid closed, he whirled to face Harry.

“I am literally speechless, Harry. I don’t...I can’t even,” Louis said, stumbling over his words.

Harry grimaced. “So on a scale of one to ten, one being mildly annoyed and ten being ‘apoplectic rage,’” he trailed off.

Louis crossed his arms and tilted his head in thought. “Eleven. We’re in full-on heart attack mode.”

Harry bit back a grin, understanding Louis needed to vent. Now was not the time to laugh.

“It was an honest mistake, Lou.”

Louis sighed and braced his hands on his hips. “I know. I mean, you couldn’t have pulled this off without cracking and telling me otherwise. I believe you.”

“But?” Harry asked.

“But, I’m never going to let you live this down. Ever.”

“Fair enough,” Harry mused. “So what do you want to do?”

“Well,” Louis said thoughtfully, “I’m going to have another smoke, before my blood pressure gets any higher. And then I’m going to get us to dinner.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Dinner?”

Louis nodded somberly. “Oh, yes. Prepare to be amazed.”

The elevator landed on the third floor, and Louis grabbed Harry’s arm and stepped out. “Come on. Time to face the music.”

Dread filled the pit of Harry’s stomach as he traipsed after Louis down the hall. Louis hummed a tune as he walked, making Harry even more concerned for his sanity. When they arrived at their room, Louis pulled out his key card, opened the door, and then crossed the room to grab his pack of cigarettes. Then he breezed past Harry and left the room.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked in confusion, hurrying to catch up with Louis.

“You’re going to buy me dinner,” Louis called over his shoulder.

“Where?” Harry frowned, not knowing the first thing about restaurants in Rome.

“You’ll see.”

*

When Harry followed Louis out the door of the hotel and over the crosswalk through the piazza, Louis navigated the street like a man on a mission.

“Know I saw it somewhere around here,” he muttered. Harry was fairly certain Louis had lost his mind.

They turned a corner, and Louis stopped dead in his tracks. “Aha.”

Harry looked past Louis to a familiar glowing yellow arch. “Absolutely not.”

Louis raised his eyebrows at Harry in challenge. “You just signed us up for the farewell tour. I’m entitled to a free dinner.”

“But this isn’t food, Louis. It’s McDonald’s.”

“I can see that.”

“How did you even know it was here?” Harry asked in awe.

“Saw it on the ride here,” Louis said, waving his hand dismissively. “Come on, let’s go.”

Harry sighed and followed Louis through the doors of the restaurant, and was hit with the sadly familiar smell of frying burgers and french fries. Resigned to his fate, he followed Louis to the counter. He watched in horror as Louis ordered a Big Mac and large fries. Louis turned expectantly to Harry when it was his turn to order.

“When in Rome,” Harry said, shaking his head. Then he ordered a Big Mac as well.

*

“I can’t believe our first meal in Italy is McDonald’s,” Harry lamented, dipping a french fry into his ketchup. 

“Hush, it’s delicious,” Louis countered, taking a healthy bite of his sandwich. “Besides, we missed lunch.”

“Here I thought I was going to wine and dine you across Europe,” Harry quipped. “And here we are.”

“There will be plenty of time for that later,” Louis shrugged. “Apparently we have dinner plans with the oldest people known to man now.”

“Ruth and James,” Harry corrected, rolling his eyes. “And they’re lovely.”

“We’ll see,” Louis said. He took a sip of his Coke. “So. Any more surprises I need to know about?”

Harry grinned down at his food. “Not that I know of, no.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Harry mulled over it for a moment. “I think it’ll be okay. Fun, even.”

“They’re older than the monuments, Harry! Come on,” Louis sighed.

“Maybe so,” Harry shrugged, unperturbed. “But you heard Bob--it’s important to have a sense of adventure.”

“You owe me for the rest of our lives. You know that, right?” Louis replied.

“Deal. Now finish your Big Mac a la Roma, and let’s go see the piazza.”

“So, a bit of a ‘sunset tour,’ you’d say?” Louis grinned mischievously, nodding out the window to a balmy Rome evening where the sun was setting.

Harry groaned and threw a fry at Louis’ head. “How long have you been saving that one?”

Louis chuckled and shrugged. “It just came to me, actually.”

“This is gonna be a long two weeks,” Harry said, shaking his head seriously.

“Oh, this is just the beginning,” Louis promised with a wicked smile. “Wait and see.”

*

Sitting at the edge of a large fountain in the middle of Piazza della Repubblica, Harry watched the evening traffic zoom in circles. When he pictured Rome, for some reason he never imagined so much noise. While Louis appeared to be texting someone, Harry pulled out his phrasebook. 

“Hey, Lou,” he began, breaking the silence that had settled on them since leaving McDonald’s. “Per favore, passa il vino.”

Louis’ head snapped up, and his bright blue eyes met Harry’s. “What’s that?”

Harry chuckled. “I said, ‘please pass the wine’ in Italian.”

“Fancy a glass?” Louis asked, pocketing his phone.

Harry shrugged. “Do you think the hotel serves it?”

“I’m kind of afraid to ask, and look stupid,” Louis confessed. “Google it.”

Harry grinned and began typing “Boscolo Exedra Roma wine” into his phone. He felt Louis’ eyes on him, and turned to ask, “What?”

Louis shrugged, smile soft in the evening light streaming into the piazza. “Nothing. Just enjoying the view.”

Harry looked up, eyebrows raised, and Louis’ eyes widened.

“I mean! The view of, like, the piazza, and stuff,” Louis corrected, cheeks a lovely shade of pink against the sunset.

Harry nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off Louis. “It is a nice view.”

“Did you find it?” Louis asked, breaking eye contact as he looked down at Harry’s phone.

“Um, let’s see,” Harry replied, scrolling down the results page. “There is a minibar in the room...and a bar in the hotel. So yes.”

Louis hummed in thought. “I could go for a glass, I guess. Want to?”

“Sure,” Harry replied with a nod. “Oh, wait--hold on. Will you get a picture for me?”

Harry turned on the camera on his phone and handed it to Louis, who nodded.

“Proof of life for the family?” Louis quipped with a smile.

Harry grinned and sat up straighter as Louis stood and stepped back a few steps to line up the shot. “Something like that.” 

Louis snapped the picture of Harry sitting at the fountain with the sunset in the background. He handed the phone back to Harry.

“Already thinking of which filter to use on it?” Louis teased, gesturing to the phone.

Harry typed out a quick, “Made it!” and sent the photo to Niall, Anne, and Gemma. Was it sad they had a group chat named “the von Trapp family singers”? Oh well.

Harry looked up to face Louis. “Want me to get one for you?”

Louis paused to think, then pulled out his phone. “Here, I have a better idea.” He clicked on the camera icon and angled the phone up between Harry and himself.

“Selfie?” Harry guessed, already shifting closer to get in the frame.

“Yep. Our first night on the farewell tour!” Louis replied with a grin. He lined up the shot of both their faces in front of the fountain and then checked to see how the photo turned out.

“Someone has to photo-document this voyage, Harold. Might as well be me.”

Harry snorted a laugh but didn’t comment. If memory served correctly, Louis was just as avid with his Instagram filters as Harry.

After a moment, Louis pocketed his phone. Harry stood, and together they waited for a break in traffic to cross at the crosswalk.

“To the bar?” Louis asked, when they paused in front of the hotel doors.

“Let’s do it,” Harry confirmed, and followed Louis into the lobby.

*

After agreeing they would have to rise early to meet the tour group in the morning, Harry and Louis stopped at one glass of wine each. That, combined with the Big Mac and fries currently in their stomachs, led to a fairly early bedtime.

Harry nodded goodnight to Flavio at the desk as they crossed the lobby to the elevators. Once inside, Harry let out a subtle yawn.

Louis glanced over and rolled his eyes fondly. “Sleepy at 8 pm? I think our senior citizen friends are rubbing off on you.”

Harry snickered. “Nah. Just had a long week at work; I’m sure a good night’s sleep will do the trick.”

Louis nodded in agreement. “Probably. And if not, the continental breakfast should help.”

“Mmm. Imagine how fancy the breakfast is here,” Harry smiled, blinking sleepily.

“All the gourmet coffee you could ever want,” Louis quipped as the elevator stopped on their floor.

Together, Harry and Louis walked down the plush-carpeted hallway to their room. Harry swiped his key card, and they entered.

“Oops, should’ve left on a light,” Harry admitted, tripping blindly for the light switch. “Here we go.” Harry found the switch, and the room was illuminated in soft light.

Louis sighed in relief at the sight of the huge bed before them. “Have I mentioned how much I love this place? Because I really do.”

Harry nodded, taking in the grandeur of the room once again. “Same.”

Louis toed off his shoes and lined them up neatly by the door, and Harry followed suit.

“Who gets first shower?” Harry asked.

“Hmm,” Louis mused. “I would say you, for booking this amazing place, but since you also signed us up for the farewell tour de Europe, I’m gonna call dibs.”

Harry groaned and flopped down on the bed. “God. How long are you going to bring that up?”

“From time to time,” Louis replied distractedly, rummaging through his luggage for clean clothes and toiletries.

Harry sighed and propped himself up on one elbow to study Louis. “Fair enough. But we are totally having dinner with James and Ruth tomorrow.”

Louis shrugged easily. “Fine with me. They seemed nice, huh?”

“Really nice,” Harry agreed, watching as Louis stood with an armful of clothes and products.

Louis strode to the bathroom door and then turned to look over his shoulder. “I’m also calling dibs on the fancy shampoo samples.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply in outrage, but Louis just grinned and closed the door behind him. Harry fell back against the ridiculously soft bedspread and stared at the chandelier on the ceiling. He spread out his arms and legs, until he was taking up as much of the bed as he could, and reflected on their first day. Honestly, it had gone better than Harry had hoped. Awkwardness was at a minimum, and aside from the tiny detail about the tour group, they had gotten along fine.

Harry’s musing was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his back pocket. The photo he had uploaded to the group chat had gotten a response. 

_ Niall: Looking good, bro! _

_ Gems: Ooh, so glamorous! How’s Louis? Give me all the details. _

_ Anne: Ciao, babe! That’s ‘hello’ in Italian--I looked it up :) _

Harry grinned fondly and set about responding to each of them. Niall received a winky face, Gemma got a simple, “Long story,” and after a quick glance in his Italian phrasebook, Anne got a ‘Ti amo!’

Harry lost track of time as he scrolled through his social media feeds and listened to the distant hum of traffic outside their hotel window. When the bathroom door opened with a soft click, Louis stepped out in a cloud of steam.

“Two words,” Louis sighed happily, dropping his dirty clothes on top of his suitcase. “Shower heads. Plural. As in, more than one. It’s heavenly.”

Harry perked up at the thought of a luxurious shower. “Did you use all the hot water?”

“Yep,” Louis confirmed. “All the hot water in all of Rome. I regret nothing.”

Harry chuckled and sat up on the bed. “The bed is nice,” he replied. “But a shower sounds great.”

“It really is,” Louis said, running his fingers through his wet fringe. “Enjoy.”

Harry stood and carefully sifted through his suitcase for sleep clothes. He made it to the bathroom door when he heard Louis’ voice.

“Hey, did you remember your toothbrush?”

Harry grinned and ducked his head. “Matter of fact, I did.”

“I brought an extra just in case,” Louis said, and Harry pointedly ignored the fluttering in his stomach at the thought of Louis going to all that trouble for him.

“Thank you,” Harry stammered. “I’m good for now, though.”

Louis grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Well, it’s still early. You have loads of time to forget to pack it. I’ll hold on to it, just in case.”

Harry sighed loudly and shook his head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime.”

As Harry stood in the relaxing steam of the admittedly luxurious shower, he tried to quell his nerves about sharing the room with Louis. Not just this room, but all the rooms for the rest of the trip. Crossing that line of familiarity could be dangerous. But then again, Harry thought of his new mantra and felt better. 

_ Louis is not the one. But you can still be friends. _

Friends traveled together, right? And took selfies at sunset in front of Roman fountains? And shared beds? Right?

Harry sighed as he shut off the shower. Just friends. He could do this. Harry took his time getting ready for bed, brushing and flossing his teeth and combing his hair. If he was honest, he was hoping that if he dawdled around a bit, Louis would be asleep when he emerged from the bathroom and they could avoid any awkward moments sharing a bed together for the first time in six months.

Harry pressed his ear to the door to listen for any sounds that Louis might still be awake. He didn’t hear the TV, or anyone talking on the phone. So the coast was clear. Harry quietly opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the room. He was met with the glow of the TV on mute, and the sight of Louis sleepily scrolling through something on his phone in a familiar pair of glasses. Otherwise, the room was dark.

Louis looked up as the door opened, and illuminated by his phone screen, his face was amused.

“Did you drown in there?” he asked.

Harry was glad it was dark and Louis couldn’t see him blushing. “Ha. No. Just took my time.”

Louis nodded and placed his phone and glasses on the nightstand at the left side of the bed. Just as Harry remembered, Louis preferred that side.

“I set my alarm for 7:00. Will that give you enough time?” Louis asked.

“Sure,” Harry agreed, placing his folded clothes on top of his suitcase and shuffling towards the bed. He yawned as he climbed under the covers and curled up on his side to face Louis.

“Sounds like a plan. Now,” Louis said in a teasing tone, “don’t keep me up all night snoring.”

“I do not snore!” Harry said indignantly.

“Sure, sure.”

“Louis!”

“Okay, fine. You do not snore,” Louis chuckled. “Happy?”

“Yes, thank you,” Harry grinned, turning to lay on his back. “Good night, Lou.”

“Night, Harry.”

There was silence for a moment as Harry got comfortable on the bed. Then Louis spoke again.

“Hey, Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“In case I didn’t say it earlier, I’m really glad to be on this farewell tour with you.”

“Oh my god, Louis. We’re not Fleetwood Mac. Stop calling it that.”

“Please. Don’t deny you would totally be Stevie Nicks,” Louis challenged.

“That’s...beside the point,” Harry yawned. “She’s a legend.”

“Okay, okay,” Louis conceded. “Now go to sleep.”

“Okay. Night,” Harry murmured, already feeling sleep pull him under. He dozed off before he could hear Louis’ soft response of, “goodnight,” with the melody to “Rhiannon” stuck in his head.

*

Heat gradually awakened Harry the next morning. The AC in the room was still blowing from a vent overhead, Harry noticed with eyes still closed. It wasn’t that. He registered a faint light behind his eyelids, and realized he had forgotten to shut the blinds last night. Yet Harry felt more rested than he had in, well, months, if he was honest. 

The first indication that something was wrong was that the bed was entirely too soft. His bed, Harry knew, had an annoying dip on the right side where he always slept, and it often left him with a sore back in the morning. But there was no crick in his neck or back this morning.

The second sign that something wasn’t quite right was the comfortable press of a warm body at Harry’s back. As a rule, he didn’t bring dates home to his and Niall’s flat, and he certainly didn’t let anyone stay over. Not since Louis left.

Louis. Shit.

Suddenly, it all came back to Harry, and his heart nearly beat out of his chest. The realization he had booked the trip; the meeting with Louis at Danny’s; the flight to Rome; the Sunset Tour group. And the bed. Singular.

Harry and Louis had shared a bed, and drifted closer in sleep. As they always did. As they  _ used to _ , back when they were dating.

They were not dating now, though. And Louis, who slept on obliviously curled up at Harry’s back, was very much not Harry’s boyfriend. 

Harry took a deep breath in, and let it out. Deep breath in, and let it out. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what to do now. There was no protocol for waking up tangled with your ex in Italy. Harry was at a loss. And Louis. Jesus. He had no idea he was currently wrapped around Harry like a koala.

Harry took stock of the situation. He had ended up curled up on his right side, with Louis’ arm slung over his waist. Under the luxurious blankets and sheets, their legs were tangled together. And Louis’ face was close enough that Harry could feel his steady exhales on the back of his head.

Beneath the mild panic of waking up spooning with his ex, another feeling brewed beneath the surface of Harry’s groggy mind. The initial alarm was tinged with regret, funny enough. It wasn’t regret for sleeping with Louis, Harry realized; rather, it was waking up in someone’s arms who no longer loved him that hurt. Did Louis still care for Harry? Maybe a little. After all, he had agreed to go on this trip with Harry. But the love they had shared had faded away, leaving a permanent ache in Harry’s chest. The realization hit Harry, then, that Louis would never get this close to Harry when he was awake. It didn’t mean anything. Chalk it up to muscle memory.

Harry took one more indulgent moment to savor the familiar warmth at his back, and then sighed. He shifted minutely in Louis’ arms, knowing Louis was a light sleeper. He would wake up soon enough. Harry put an inch of space between their bodies, and then shivered slightly from the loss of warmth.

Sure enough, Louis grumbled sleepily and wiggled closer to Harry, seeking body heat. Harry closed his eyes and counted silently.  _ One. Two. Three. _

Before Harry reached the number four, Louis’ even breathing abruptly halted. Harry heard him suck in a breath of surprise, and then freeze. Harry, who was facing the opposite direction, appeared to still be sleeping. Now, he waited.

After a few moments, in which Harry could practically hear the wheels turning in Louis’ mind, he felt Louis scoot back on the bed away from Harry. He could have sworn he also heard a whispered, “Fuck” as Louis realized the situation. It would’ve been funny, if Harry’s heart wasn’t slowly breaking into tiny shards all over again.

“Harry?” Louis whispered softly, brushing a delicate hand over Harry’s shoulder blade.

“I was warm,” Harry mumbled grumpily, slowly turning onto his back and looking at Louis for the first time that morning.

“You were awake?!” Louis asked, using the same hand to smack Harry on the arm.

“Just for a minute,” Harry yawned.

“Sorry,” Louis replied, and in the soft morning light streaming in through the wide window, his cheeks were tinged pink. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“‘S okay,” Harry said, taking in the phenomenon that was morning Louis. His caramel hair stuck up at odd angles, and stubble lined his sharp jawline. His blue eyes were bleary, but soft. Harry wanted to scoop him up in his arms and never let go. He also wanted to open the window and catapult himself down into the early Rome traffic, so there was that.

“So,” Louis said, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ornate chandelier, “breakfast?”

“Coffee?” Harry countered hopefully.

Louis snorted a soft laugh and nodded. “Sure. Coffee. But we have to get up.”

Harry buried his face in his pillow. “Can’t they bring it to us?”

“Well, well. Look who’s gotten used to the lap of luxury. Who’d have thought,” Louis teased in a lilting voice that made Harry grin.

“Shut it. Don’t act like you don’t love the fancy shower head.”

“Heads. Plural. There are two, as you know,” Louis corrected dreamily. “I’ll never forget that shower.”

Harry chuckled and stretched. “Okay, let’s get up then.”

This time, it was Louis that sighed. “Five more minutes? I love this bed.”

“Okay,” Harry shrugged. “But don’t blame me if the rest of the tour group eats all the breakfast.”

“Shit, I bet they’re early risers, like my nan,” Louis groaned. “Okay, I’m up.”

Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as Louis sat up, disentangling their legs in the process. Louis turned and slowly slung his legs over the opposite side of the bed and sighed. From his view, Harry could see the bumps of Louis’ spine through his thin white tee shirt. He had mapped each bump with his hands too many times to count. Harry knew the dip in Louis’ waist, the swell of his bum, and the taste of his skin at the small of his back. Harry knew that if he slowly peeled the tee shirt up and over Louis’ head, Louis would shiver in the AC and his smooth skin would erupt in goose bumps. Harry knew the sounds Louis made when he kissed down the arch of his back, and when he curved his hands around the shape of his ass.

It was too early for this.

As if reading his mind, Louis murmured, “It can’t be past seven yet.”

“Maybe they should have called it ‘Sunrise Tours’ instead,” Harry suggested around a yawn.

Louis chuckled. “You’ve have been on your own for sure, then.”

“Hush, you,” Harry replied, sitting up in the bed as well. “You wouldn’t want to miss this.”

Amidst collective yawns, Harry and Louis stood and slowly began making the bed. Muscle memory, Harry realized; they used to make the bed together every morning before work. Louis didn’t have much of a preference, but he knew Harry liked to come home to a nicely made bed.

When the soft, cream duvet was back in place, Harry knew that next came getting dressed. Usually, Harry and Louis would simply rummage through drawers and closets and dress together. Now, that seemed too intimate. Louis appeared to realize this at the same time.

“I’ll, uh,” Louis ventured, “just grab the bathroom first.”

Harry watched as Louis sifted through his suitcase to find clothes, and then shuffled to the bathroom without a backward glance. The door clicked behind him, and Harry let out a slow breath. He had predicted some moments of this trip might be awkward, but didn’t envision them happening so soon. Or so frequently.

“Gonna be a long day,” Harry mused to no one in particular, then walked to his own suitcase to find something to wear. He was debating between two similar white shirts when Louis stepped out of the bathroom. While his instinct would be to ask Louis’ opinion, as he often did when they were dating, Harry resisted. Instead, he hastily grabbed one of the shirts at random and walked wordlessly to the bathroom to change. He desperately needed that coffee.

*

Continental breakfast at the Boscolo Exedra was in a word, unreal. The smell of freshly-brewed coffee hit Harry as soon as he and Louis crossed the threshold to the dining room, and he sighed in relief. The dining room was arranged with small round tables covered in pristine white tablecloths, complete with a vase of fresh peonies at each table. There was a buffet-style line where several of the other tour group members were filling spotless white plates with pastries, fruit, and other delicious foods. 

“Jackpot,” Louis whispered under his breath, and Harry turned to him with a grin.

“Let the holiday begin, huh?”

While Louis ambled over to the buffet table, Harry made a beeline for the coffee station. A man in a crisp white shirt and tie stood behind the table with a bland smile.

“Coffee, signor?” he asked when Harry approached. “Cappuccino?”

“Yes, please,” Harry said with a smile. The man nodded and pressed a button on the espresso machine that set it to life. He placed a white mug under the tap, where a stream of fresh coffee now poured. Harry watched in fascination as the man put the finishing touches on his drink. When the coffee was ready, the man placed the steaming mug neatly on a saucer and handed it to Harry.

“Um, grazie,” Harry managed to remember, and he flashed the man a smile. Then Harry turned to find Louis carrying a large plate to a vacant table. Harry followed him to the table and set down his fresh coffee.

“Would you like one?” he asked, knowing Louis most likely would choose tea.

“No, thanks,” Louis replied. “I think I saw a tea station. Gonna check that out.”

Harry eyed the plate Louis had heaped with bacon, toast, and eggs. “Food looks good.”

“Right?” Louis asked as he turned to scan the room for tea. When he spotted a table near the coffee set up, he wove his way around the room towards it. Harry helped himself to the buffet, choosing fresh fruit and a honey-glazed pastry instead of Louis’ selection. He was already back at the table digging into his fruit salad when Louis returned.

“So, what’s on the schedule for today? Do you know?” Louis asked, sliding into the chair opposite Harry.

Harry pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the table beside his plate. It was the first page of Bob’s itinerary.

“8:30 am, Roman Forum and Palatine Hill,” Harry read from the sheet. “Better eat up, it’s going to be a busy day.” He handed it across the table to Louis, who scanned it as he chewed his food.

“Oh, cool--we’re seeing the Colosseum today!” Louis replied eagerly. He read each item on the itinerary, then looked up with a bright smile. “Harry, we’re in Rome.”

Harry chuckled. “Um, yes we are. Did you just now notice, or?”

Louis rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t dim. “You know what I mean! It’s like... _ Rome. _ And we’re here. Like.”

“Kind of a change of pace from everyday life?” Harry guessed.

“Exactly!”

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, each enjoying their choice of breakfast, and then Bob wandered over to their table.

“And good morning to our youngest travelers! Are you ready for a great day?” he boomed.

“Ready!” Harry and Louis chimed in simultaneously.

“Wonderful! Looks like great weather for us, too,” Bob replied with a wide smile. “We’ll meet out front in half an hour, okay?”

Harry smiled and nodded his consent, while Louis lifted his cup of tea in salute. When Bob walked away, Louis smiled mischievously at Harry. “I can’t believe you said they were older than the Roman ruins.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Excuse you! That was you, not me.”

Louis snickered and set down his cup of tea. “Was it? My mistake.”

Harry grinned and leaned closer to Louis across the table. “You’re the one who called it the  _ farewell tour,  _ Lou. Not me.”

Louis shrugged, eyes dancing with mirth. “It is what it is.”

Harry sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair. “Of all the people to tour Europe with.”

“You picked  _ me _ ,” Louis crooned. “And now you’re stuck with me for the next,” he trailed off, checking the calendar on his phone, “fourteen days. Oh boy. You can thank me later.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “God help us.”

Louis lifted his tea once more in salute. “Onward to adventure, Harold. Let’s do this.”

*

After exchanging pleasantries with some of the other Sunset Tours travelers at the bus stop outside the hotel, Harry and Louis proceeded to join them as they headed to their first destination: the Roman Forum. 

“So,” Louis said, squinting up at the early morning sun, “what can you tell me about this forum? Beyond that it’s older than the hills and falling apart, most likely?”

Harry shook his head and opened his copy of  _ Rome Day by Day.  _ “Well, according to this,” he replied, scanning the index:

_ While the Forum is not one of the better-preserved archaeological sites of ancient Rome, it is the most historically significant. The Forum was the nerve center of the most powerful Western civilization in history for the better part of a thousand years, where political decisions were made, public speeches were heard, and market activities took place. _

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked up at Louis. He gestured to his book. “Three out of three stars, according to this.”

Louis nodded appreciatively. “The Forum it is, then.”

As they neared their destination, Harry was surprised by the sheer amount of noise surrounding them: traffic from cars, buses, and colorful Vespas; swarms of tourists walking and taking photos excitedly; and music coming from cafes with open doors. They were in modern-day ancient Rome, and it was surreal.

The morning chill was fading, and the sun beat down increasingly warmer. Harry perched his sunglasses on his face and tuned in to what Bob was saying as they neared the Forum.

“...is the Via dei Fori Imperiali, which you might recognize from the 1953 classic  _ Roman Holiday.” _

Harry smiled down at his guidebook as he remembered watching the film growing up. His young heart had been enchanted with the lovely princess and daring adventures throughout the city. He glanced over at Louis to find him sauntering along in his own aviators, hands casually in his jeans pockets. As if feeling eyes on him, Louis turned with a quizzical expression.

“Not taking any photos? This is quite a view.”

Harry’s attention snapped to the sprawling city scape before him, where Roman ruins dotted a hill in the distance. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and snapped a few pictures of the vista, and then gasped.

“Lou! I left my Canon in the room.”

“Your nice camera? The one you spent months saving up for, and brought specifically for this reason? That camera?”

“Um, yes,” Harry admitted with a disappointed sigh. “That’s the one.”

“Hey, cheer up,” Louis replied, patting Harry on the shoulder. “We’ll get some good pictures today for you. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispered, turning back to face the view of ancient Rome. And really, it was a spectacular view.

Ahead, up on a hill, stood the skeletal remains of columns and arches and unusual pathways. The morning sun glinted down on the ruins, leaving curious shadows on the patchy grass surrounding them. Despite his disappointment at forgetting his camera, Harry felt excitement bloom in his chest.

He opened the camera app on his phone, and zoomed in on an impressive free-standing column on the hill. Harry snapped the photo, then turned to Louis and shrugged.

“Might as well.”

Louis chuckled and nodded, and Harry could see his own face reflected in the lenses of Louis’ aviators. For a moment, Harry had the impulse to smooth down his curls that were blowing in the gentle breeze. Then, he took a glance around his current surroundings--the travel group of senior citizens, the swarm of other generic tourists, and Louis--and realized he had no one here to impress. No one was looking at his hair. 

The tour group approached the entrance to the forum, finally, and Bob took a head count. Then, he distributed a stack of tickets to the group. A guard of sorts was standing in front of them, and nodded his thanks as the group passed in single file handing over their tickets.

It was impossible to tell the guard’s age, as he was dressed in a drab brown uniform, hat, and sunglasses, so when Harry and Louis passed him and extended their own tickets, Harry was surprised to see the man’s face crease into a broad smile. He gave Louis an overt once-over, nodding appreciatively, and then said “Buongiorno” so suggestively that Harry rolled his eyes.

Louis was snickering as they walked away out of earshot of the man.

“Well, buongiorno, Louis,” Harry murmured into Louis’ ear. “Looks like you have an admirer.”

Louis snorted. “Ha. Was it my ratty blue jeans that impressed him, or my complete lack of language skills?”

“I think it was the fact you were under the average age of guests in this group...and your sunglasses,” Harry admitted.

“My sunglasses?” Louis asked, brows drawing together in a frown. “Why?”

“You know,” Harry shrugged as he gestured towards Louis’ aviators, suddenly wishing he hadn’t mentioned it. “They’re very, like...cool.”

“My sunglasses are cool?” Louis asked, smile widening in amusement.

Oh god. Harry’s whole face felt flushed, and he desperately wished a crack would open up in the ground and swallow him whole. Could you actually die of embarrassment?

“Yeah, you know,” Harry floundered awkwardly, “your whole look is just...cool.”

Louis’ eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise. “Really.”

Harry sighed and hung his head. “Yeah, never mind.”

“No, no, Harry, go on,” Louis teased lightly. “Tell me more about this coolness.”

Harry groaned and looked away, towards a pile of Roman rubble. “Forget I said anything.”

“Aww, Harry, are you embarrassed?” Louis asked gleefully, poking him on the shoulder. “It’s really flattering, actually. No one ever calls me cool.”

“Don’t expect it to happen again,” Harry grumped, leveling Louis with an unimpressed stare.

“Hey,” Louis protested, “maybe I’m too cool to walk with you now. Maybe I’ll walk with Stevie and Lindsey, instead.”

“If you mean  _ James and Ruth _ , our new friends, then go for it. But I wouldn’t recommend asking them if they were around to see the first Fleetwood Mac tour.”

Louis barked out a laugh. “Noted. Now come on, pay attention. Bob is talking already.”

Together, they tuned in to hear Bob discussing details of the Forum as they walked. And really, Harry did want to pay attention, as fun as it was to banter with Louis.

“The forum was the most important civic space in all of Western civilization for much of antiquity,” Bob said, strolling closer to a crumbling structure that resembled the remains of a portico. “It featured temples, basilicas, and markets that range in date from the 6th century BC to the 5th century AD.”

Louis leaned close enough that his breath tickled Harry’s ear. “Fun fact: Bob was actually there.”

Harry tried to smother his laugh, and then elbowed Louis in the ribs. “Pay attention, Lou.”

Bob lectured on a few moments longer, pointing out the remains of a basilica as they walked. Some of the tour group took photos of the impressive structures around them. Harry was distracted by a gasp from Louis.

“Harry,” Louis hissed, grabbing his arm, “is that a cat?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he followed Louis’ line of sight to see a grey tabby stretched out in a patch of sunlight on a seemingly-random pile of rubble.

“Lou,” Harry breathed, raising his phone to snap a photo as if in a daze. “Can we…?”

“Absolutely not,” Louis replied as if reading his mind. “We are not taking it home.”

“But Louis--”

“No buts,” Louis said firmly. “No pets. Besides, look how happy it is right here.”

“I’m naming her Roma,” Harry whispered, zooming in to take a picture of the cat lounging in the sun. “Can we play with her?”

Louis sighed long-sufferingly, and then led the way over to the cat. “One time, Harry,” Louis warned sternly. “Say hello, and then we’re leaving.”

Harry cautiously approached the tabby, who eyed the pair with mild curiosity. “Hi, kitty,” Harry crooned softly, extending a hand slowly for the cat to sniff.

“Don’t you mean buongiorno?” Louis quipped.

Harry rolled his eyes and continued chatting with the cat as if nothing had happened. “Buongiorno, kitty. How are you? Would you like to come home with me?”

The cat in question sniffed Harry’s hand delicately, then flopped over on her back to be petted. Harry beamed and turned to face Louis.

“She likes me!”

Louis groaned, but pulled out his phone to take a photo. “Of course she does. You’re like the cat whisperer.” Louis snapped the photo, then pocketed his phone. “Now, say goodbye to Roma. We’re getting left behind.”

Harry gave the cat’s soft fur one more pet, then turned to see that the group was indeed moving on without them. “Ciao, kitty,” he whispered, then stood to walk away.

“Did you get a picture?” Harry asked, striding back to Louis.

“Yep. Sending it to your mum.”

“Please do  _ not  _ text my mum, Louis.”

“Jealous because she likes me more than you, huh?” Louis teased.

Harry grumbled under his breath and shook his head. “Come on, Bob is still talking.”

Indeed, he was. “The eight columns of the Temple of Saturn tower over the north end of the forum,” Bob explained, gesturing to a tall structure nearby, “indicating the former height of all the structures here. Now we move on to the Temple of Julius Caesar, where...”

Bob’s voice trailed off as he led the group across the sparse grass to another structure. Harry flipped through his guidebook as they ambled around the ruins in the warm sunshine.

“What’s next?” Louis asked, breaking the temporary silence.

“Umm,” Harry replied, pulling out his itinerary, “after we finish Palatine Hill, it’s the Colosseum.”

“Sweet!” Louis exclaimed under his breath. “Gladiators.”

“Yes, nothing like a Roman bloodbath at nine in the morning,” Harry quipped, folding his itinerary and slipping it into his back pocket. “Festive.”

At the nearby Palatine Hill, Harry and Louis learned that the space was founded when Romulus killed Remus, signifying the creation of Rome. Compared to the tourist-filled forum, Palatine Hill was a quiet archaeological garden. If they’d had more time, Harry could envision eating a picnic lunch here.

“Where are the markings in this place?” Louis asked as he wandered from crumbling ruin to ruin confused. 

Harry pulled out his guidebook for clues, only to find that:

_ The Palatine’s extensive ruins are time-consuming to explore and not very well-marked, which is fascinating for some but frustrating for those in a hurry. _

Harry grinned and looked up at Louis, who had stopped wandering long enough to catch his breath.

“Well?” he asked, gesturing to Harry’s copy of  _ Rome Day by Day. _

Harry shook his head dismissively and closed the book. “No help. What did Bob say?”

Louis sighed impatiently. “Something about emperors building their palaces here. I don’t remember.” He wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead, and Harry noticed Louis was already getting a tan.

“There will be shade at the Colosseum, probably,” Harry said, walking closer to where Louis stood. “And maybe a gelato stand.”

Louis groaned. “Don’t tease me. I love gelato.”

“Did the ancients eat gelato?” Harry wondered aloud.

Louis shrugged. “Imagine them fighting to the death in the arena for two scoops of raspberry gelato.”

“Kind of like...Rome’s  _ hunger games?”  _ Harry asked, giggling. “Get it?”

“Oh my god, Harry,” Louis said, hanging his head. “You did not.”

“Get it? Because they’re killing each other...but also hungry…”

“Harry. You don’t have to explain it; you’ve said enough. Jesus,” Louis sighed.

There was companionable silence as the group walked to the next location. A few minutes later, Harry giggled again under his breath.

“Roman hunger games,” he whispered to himself, grinning.

“Harry, I swear to god,” Louis warned, elbowing him.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m done.”

“Thank god. Now, let’s go see this Colosseum,” Louis replied.

“It has three stars in my book,” Harry said, holding up his guidebook. 

“What does it say?” Louis asked. “Give me a rundown, and then we can skip Bob’s lecture and go exploring.”

Harry squinted down at the small print in the bright sunlight, then read:

_...the games at the Flavian amphitheater were the NASCAR of antiquity...the Colosseum hosted 65,000 fans every other day with its gory contests between men and animals...inside, a modern catwalk allows visitors to stand at the same level where gladiators and hippos once fought to the death. Below, an ingenious system of 32 elevator shafts and trapdoors kept the action constant...in AD 523, well after the rise of Christianity, the fights ended for good. _

Harry closed the book and looked up at Louis excitedly. “We can stand where the gladiators once stood, Lou!”

Louis grinned and nodded. “Care for a showdown?”

Harry scoffed. “Sure, if you’re ready to lose.”

“It’s kind of adorable how unprepared you are to fight to the death, Harry.”

“Heyyy,” Harry protested, his smile turning to a pout. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“Clearly,” Louis teased, patting Harry on the arm. “C’mon, I’ll take it easy on you.”

At the entrance to the Colosseum, Bob briefly gave the group instructions to stay together, and meet up at the exit in 45 minutes.

“Can we see it all in 45 minutes?” Louis wondered aloud.

“Let’s take our own tour,” Harry suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. “It’ll be fun.”

“Alright, I’m in,” Louis said with a smile. “Let’s go.”

Walking into the Colosseum, Harry was impressed at the sheer size and height of the massive structure. Even though a huge chunk had crumbled over the years on the opposite wall, what was left was truly breathtaking.

While the Sunset Tours group clustered just inside the entrance, Louis grabbed Harry’s arm and together they snuck around an archway to hide.

“Breaking the rules on day one?” Harry asked, clearly impressed.

“Yep,” Louis replied giddily. “Now let’s go exploring.”

The level that the group entered onto looked down on what would’ve been the arena floor below. It had decayed, of course, revealing an intricate system of tunnels beneath the arena where Harry could envision gladiators and animals waiting for their turn in the arena. 

Harry and Louis walked closer to the railing looking down on the rubble of the arena, and Harry took a few photos as they walked. To his amusement, Louis pulled out his own phone, set it to video, and began recording his own narration of the arena.

“And to our right, you can see what’s left of the arena. You can also see how bright the sun is today. I don’t know about Harry, here, but I’m sweating. So far, no gelato in sight.”

Harry chuckled and stepped into Louis’ line of sight, waving at the camera. “Hi mum! It’s hot and everyone’s speaking Italian!”

Louis laughed and continued his tour. “Now, down below, you will see a catwalk where I will soon be fighting Harry to the death in the first annual Roman hunger games--”

(Harry doubled over laughing.)

“--yes, Harry, very funny--and we will be taking some epic pictures.”

Louis ended the video and pocketed his phone. “Come on, let’s go down to the catwalk.”

Harry followed as Louis looked left and right to make sure Bob hadn’t spotted them wandering off. There was no sign of the tour group now, so Harry and Louis jogged down to the lower level. A few other tourists were exploring the catwalk, which spanned what would have been the length of the arena floor. A railing separated the ambitious explorers from stepping down into the tunnel system, to Louis’ dismay and Harry’s secret relief.

When they reached the catwalk, Louis turned to face Harry with a giddy expression. “This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Harry grinned back and nodded. “Same. Let’s check it out.”

Together, Harry and Louis walked up and down the length of the catwalk, exploring different views of the arena walls and observing the elaborate tunnel system below. Louis pulled his phone back out and resumed his video commentary.

“Now, as you can see we are at the lowest level of the arena, and it’s getting closer to battle time. You can see Harry is sweating just thinking about it--”

“Hey!”

“--and he should be, because I’m going to wipe the floor with him.”

“Louis, there are literally hundreds of witnesses. Please don’t kill me in front of them,” Harry groused.

“Fine, fine, I’ll settle for a few pictures, then,” Louis said, turning the camera to his own face. “But let the record state that I was ready to fight.”

“Fine by me,” Harry replied, pulling his own phone out to take some photos. “Lou, stand by the railing there and I’ll get your picture.”

Louis finally ended his video tour and slid his phone back into his pocket. “Here?”

Harry lined up the shot, making sure to get as much of the arena as he could behind Louis. “Good. Smile,” he requested, snapping a few shots.

“Want me to do you next?” Louis asked, walking closer to check the photos Harry had taken.

“Sure,” Harry replied, and he took his turn standing where Louis had just stood.

Louis took a few photos, zooming in and then out to get a variety of angles of Harry and the arena. When they were done, the two leaned against the railing scrolling through their photos. They were standing with their heads together looking at Harry’s phone when a voice called to them.

“Yoo-hoo, hello boys!”

Harry and Louis turned to find Ruth striding towards them with James in her wake. She was wearing sunglasses, too, but she had also donned a wide-brimmed straw hat. She wiggled her fingers in a friendly wave.

“There you two are!” she exclaimed as she neared Harry and Louis. “Enjoying the tour so far? We certainly are! I was just telling James,” she trailed off, catching her breath.

James finally caught up with his wife. “Ruth, slow down. We still have ten minutes.”

Ruth turned to face James and shrugged. “I was just telling the boys, they picked the best spot for photos.” She faced Harry and Louis again, and smiled. “Would you like me to get one of the two of you?” she asked kindly.

“Sure,” Harry and Louis replied in unison, and Harry handed over his phone. “The camera is on, so just push the circle button at the bottom.”

“Got it!” Ruth chirped, carefully taking the phone. “Smile, boys!”

Harry leaned closer to Louis, feeling slightly awkward as he looped an arm around Louis’ shoulders. He felt Louis slide an arm around his waist, and relaxed a fraction. Ruth snapped a few photos, them beamed.

“Ah, young love. So sweet!”

“Oh, actually--”

“We’re not--”

Harry and Louis both spoke at the same time, but Ruth didn’t appear to hear. She was still gushing about the two of them.

“We simply  _ must  _ have dinner tonight, boys. Our treat. Then you can tell us how you met. I’m so excited!” Ruth trilled, handing back Harry’s phone. “Oops, time to go! Us old people better get a headstart so we don’t get left behind,” she quipped.

Ruth reached for James’ hand, which he took with the patience of a man who had been doing this for many years. “We’ll see you at the exit, gentlemen,” he said in parting. Then the two trekked back towards the stairs that led to the exit.

Harry and Louis realized they were still linked together at the same moment, because they sprung apart like they had been burned. Harry couldn’t meet Louis’ eyes for a moment as he stepped back and checked the photos on his phone.

“Um,” Louis began uncertainly, “who’s gonna tell her?”

“You mean, about us?” Harry asked, pocketing his phone. “I guess I can.”

“She’s a sweet lady, but wow,” Louis said, a little in awe. “Do you think we’ll have that much energy when we’re seventy?”

Harry chuckled and shrugged. “We can only hope. Now, come on, I’ll buy you a gelato.”

“Now you’re talking!” Louis crowed happily, and strode towards the exit at a pace that would make Ruth jealous. Harry followed, taking one last glance at the magnificent arena. He took a mental picture, then. Just in case he never came back.

*

Piazza Navona was next on the tour, so Harry and Louis gratefully stepped onto the air-conditioned coach that would take them across ancient Rome. 

“Three stars for this next one, too,” Harry said, flipping through his guidebook. “And apparently the best gelato in town is there.”

They were seated toward the back of the coach, allowing the older tourists to sit closer to the front door. Harry slid his sunglasses off and hung them over his shirt collar. Louis did the same.

“What flavors to get?” Louis mused, staring off dreamily into space. “This is crucial, Harry.”

“Hmm,” Harry pondered. “You can’t go wrong with strawberry. Or limoncello.”

They chatted about gelato, and the possibility of lunch in the hopefully near future, as the coach headed to the piazza. Bob stood at the front of the coach then and announced that they would have what he described as “flex time” in the piazza. They could wander around, stop for lunch, or just enjoy the ambience of the piazza.

“Ambience?” Louis asked with raised brows. “Sounds fancy.”

Harry consulted his guidebook. “It’s apparently,” he said, reading, “Rome’s grandest baroque square.”

“Works for me,” Louis replied with an easy shrug. “I’m loving this AC by the way.”

“Right?” Harry asked, leaning back against the cushioned headrest of his seat. “So nice.”

They rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence, Harry watching the city pass by from the window and Louis scrolling through his phone. When the coach stopped, Louis slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Onward?” he asked.

“Onward,” Harry confirmed.

The tour group exited the coach, and Harry slid his sunglasses back on as the late morning sun shined down. Since the coach had stopped at a loading zone, Harry and Louis followed the crowd led by Bob through a short alley. It opened onto a view of a piazza that was indeed grand, and Harry let out a low whistle.

At opposite ends of a rectangular enclosed space, two enormous, ornate fountains stood. To their left, the buildings framing in the piazza were taller than on the right, and included a church with two tall bell towers. Cafes with outdoor tables and umbrellas lined the opposite side. And in the center, between the fountains, tourists milled about. Music was playing somewhere, a faint violin sound that helped set the scene--in Bob’s words, the ambience--of the space.

“Where do we start?” Louis asked, slightly in awe.

“Well,” Harry mused, glancing at his guidebook, “this fountain closest to us is called the Fountain of the Four Rivers, by Bernini.”

“Okay,” Louis nodded, striding closer to the fountain, where a few tourists were sitting. “And?”

“And...says here,” Harry continued to read, “that the four figures represent the Danube, Plata, Ganges, and Nile rivers...the ‘cavorting’ animals sculptured here include river serpents and a horse, commonly mistaken for a hippopotamus.”

Louis stared intently at the figure of the horse, wading in the fountain, with his hands on his hips and head tilted in consideration. “Hippo, huh? I don’t see it.”

Harry glanced up from his book and shook his head fondly. Quietly, he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of Louis’ back side as he stared at the huge fountain. Just for posterity, Harry reasoned. Louis didn’t have to know. 

Louis shook his head and turned to face Harry. “Don’t suppose we can just stick our feet in for a moment?”

“Don’t suppose we can,” Harry replied wryly, nodding off to the left where two carabinieri officers were chatting. “Unless you want to go to Italian jail.”

“Do they serve lunch?” Louis countered, hands still on his hips. “I’m starving.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Well, Bob says we have flex time, so might as well.”

Together, Harry and Louis scoped out the cafes to their right, strolling up and down the piazza looking at the outdoor menu boards for each one. Eventually, they stopped at one which featured a special of the day that included pasta, bread, and wine.

“Our first Italian lunch,” Harry said, elbowing Louis next to him. “Are you ready?”

“More than,” Louis replied. “Let’s go.”

A maitre’d approached them as they stood reading the menu and greeted them.

“Buongiorno, signori,” he said jovially. “Ready for lunch?” His accented English was very clear. Harry imagined he spent a lot of time dealing with tourists, so it made sense.

“We are,” Louis confirmed with a bright smile.

“Two?” the host asked.

“Yes, please,” Harry replied.

The host led them to a small, round table nearby that was vacant, and Harry and Louis settled in, grateful for the shade of the white umbrella overhead. They ordered drinks and their starters, then sat back and watched the tourists walking the sunny piazza.

“I really needed a holiday,” Louis said conversationally out of nowhere. “So thank you.”

Harry turned to face Louis and smiled. “Thank  _ you  _ for coming with me. So, things busy at school?”

Louis sighed and nodded. He slid off his sunglasses and laid them on the table, which was covered in yet another white tablecloth.

“Just finished practicum, and it was...wow.”

“Pretty intense?” Harry guessed.

Louis nodded again. “I mean, it was great, just busy.”

“What was the hardest part?”

“Honestly? The paperwork,” Louis quipped with a small smile. “And then we had to be evaluated--our teaching, our lesson plans, pupils’ reviews, you name it.”

“But you’re still thinking of looking for a teaching job in London now?” Harry asked.

“Yep. It’s where I want to be, you know? Better schools, better opportunities there.”

“Good,” Harry mused, nodding. “So which class was the most fun to teach?”

Louis grinned and sat up straighter. “Year two, absolutely. They were the best.”

Harry mirrored Louis’ smile. “Did they call you Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis nodded eagerly. “They did. They were fantastic. Like...just their enthusiasm for learning, and making friends, you know? It’s a great age to teach.”

“That’s awesome,” Harry nodded again. “I’m excited for you. You’re going to be great.”

“Thanks,” Louis said, smiling shyly down at the table. “I hope so.”

“I know so,” Harry countered.

Further conversation was halted by the arrival of two generous helpings of pasta carbonara and a bottle of wine. Their waiter rattled off the year and source of the wine as he uncorked it, but Harry eventually tuned him out. It was red wine; that was good enough for him.

After the waiter poured their glasses of wine, he bid them  _ buon appetito  _ and left them to their lunches.

Harry met Louis’ eyes over the amazing food before them and grinned. “Wow.”

“I know,” Louis confessed with a smile. He lifted his fork and swirled some pasta around it delicately. 

Harry tried, and failed, to mimic Louis’ pasta swirling technique. In the end, he just enjoyed the savory flavors of the cream sauce, bacon, and veggies in the pasta as best he could. Louis had the grace not to tease him too much.

It was kind of embarrassing for Harry how quickly they made it through the bottle of wine. Before he knew it, he was pleasantly buzzed, sun-warmed, and full of delicious pasta.

“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no,” Louis said in a lilting voice.

“Hmm? What was I thinking?” Harry asked sleepily, blinking slowly.

“You were thinking of taking a little nap. And the answer is absolutely no.”

“Ten minutes wouldn’t hurt anything,” Harry protested.

Louis shook his head in mock disappointment. “Lightweight.”

“Rude.”

“Just saying,” Louis said, lifting a graceful hand to signal to the waiter he’d like the check.

“I can get it, Lou,” Harry said, frowning as he reached for his wallet.

“I know, but I want to,” Louis replied, accepting the check from their waiter. He pulled out a stack of Euros and slid them into the check pocket. “No change,” Louis told the waiter. The waiter said a quick  _ Grazie _ and was off.

“Thank you,” Harry said around a small yawn.

“No problem,” Louis replied easily. “Now, wake up. I believe I was promised gelato.”

“That you were,” Harry acquiesced.

“So where are we headed?”

“We are going to,” Harry said, pausing to check his guidebook, “Tre Scalini.”

“How do you say, ‘let’s go’?” Louis asked.

“Umm, andiamo,” Harry replied, quickly searching his memory. “I think.”

“Okay, andiamo then,” Louis said, clapping his hands once for emphasis. “Let’s take a stroll.”

*

Tre Scalini, as it turned out, was also in Piazza Navona, so it wasn’t a long stroll. Like the restaurant where they had just eaten, Tre Scalini also featured outdoor seating under wide umbrellas. The tables were nearly full, but Louis saw one just outside of the reach of one of the umbrellas and led Harry over.

Not long after they snagged the table, which was covered in white and gold linens and fresh flowers, a waiter appeared and greeted them.

“Gelato today?” he asked in accented English.

Harry nodded. “What do you recommend?”

The waiter’s wizened face broke into a wide smile. “The Tartufo, of course!”

“The...what?” Louis asked, leaning closer to the old man.

“The tartufo,” he repeated slowly. “Chocolate truffle gelato, with whipped cream and a chocolate wafer--secret family recipe. Try it; you will love.”

Harry and Louis exchanged glances and shrugged. “Sure, we’ll try it,” Louis finally replied.

“E delicioso, you wait and see,” the waiter promised with a bow, then left.

“Guess we’ll see,” Harry said, leaning back in his seat.

While they waited, Harry and Louis watched as a musician began setting up in front of the cafe tables. He pulled out a guitar and began tuning it. He was dressed simply in a black button up shirt and grey slacks, but his shoes likely cost more than Harry’s rent--they looked to be authentic Italian leather.

As if Louis was thinking the same thing, he shrugged and said, “Priorities, mate.”

Harry chuckled. “Right? Food, wine, gelato, shoes. That’s all you need.”

When the waiter returned with their gelato, Harry’s jaw dropped. “Best in all of Roma,” the waiter boasted with a wink. Then he left them to their food.

Harry and Louis stared down at the gelato, which wasn’t just in a cone or a cup, as they’d expected. It was in an ornate white saucer and served with a silver spoon. The gelato itself was perched on the plate in two perfect scoops, and a healthy topping of whipped cream covered it. To top it off, a chocolate wafer was stuck into the whipped cream.

“Harry,” Louis breathed, unable to go on.

“I know,” Harry whispered reverently.

Louis lifted his spoon and carefully scooped up a bite of the ice cream, and Harry followed suit.

Louis outright moaned. “Oh my god.  _ Harry.” _

_ “I know,”  _ Harry replied again, as the chocolate melted in Harry’s mouth. It was the most delicious ice cream he had ever eaten. How could he go back home to Ben & Jerry’s now?

They ate in awed silence for a few minutes, and the forgotten musician began to play his guitar.

Louis frowned at the melody and glanced at Harry. “Is that…?”

Harry’s eyes widened when he recognized the song. “‘No Rain,’ by Blind Melon? Yes.”

As the music picked up, some of the tourists at nearby tables began to clap along. Harry met Louis’ eyes and smiled. 

“When in Rome,” he said with a shrug. Then he turned to watch the musician sing the chorus:

_ I just want to say I want you safe with me, oh _

_ I’ll always be there when you wake _

_ You know I’d like to keep my cheeks dry today _

_ So stay with me and I’ll have it made _

Some of the tourists were filming the performance with their phones and expensive cameras. A few dropped coins into his open guitar case, and the musician nodded and smiled. Louis checked his phone and saw that it was nearly time to meet the tour group for their next destination. Their ice cream finished, and satisfied that it was indeed the best in Rome, they paid the bill and wandered back out into the piazza.

For a moment, with the sun shining down and music playing and Louis walking next to him, Harry felt really and truly relaxed for the first time in...how long? Weeks? Months? He smiled and dropped a few coins of his own into the musician’s guitar case as they walked away.

Harry knew he needed a holiday; work had gotten gradually more and more stressful until he saw no end in sight. But actually being on a holiday for once--that was amazing. Harry had a lot of blessings to count, and it was just the first day of their trip.

By the time they met up with Bob and the rest of the group, Harry was smiling serenely. He caught the tail end of Bob’s instructions for the next stop, the Pantheon.

“...so we’ll walk the short distance and digest out lunches, and then check out the Pantheon together,” Bob concluded. He took a head count, then led the group through another alley out onto a street.

The seclusion of the piazza was a startling contrast to the noise of the city traffic outside. Harry flipped through his guidebook as they walked with the group down a few streets until, in the distance, Harry could see a distinct dome.

“Wow,” Louis said, as if reading his mind.

The Pantheon was, in a word, massive. They crossed a small piazza to the entrance, which was framed by enormous pillars--at least 15, Harry estimated--that led to the domed interior.

Up ahead, Bob was giving introductory information about the site.

“The Egyptian granite columns weigh 82 tons each. Inside, the concrete dome was poured in the 120s AD and never modified. It features a 30-foot oculus at the top, open to the elements…”

“According to this,” Harry leaned over and whispered to Louis, “the tomb of Raphael is inside.”

Louis leaned closer and replied, “you mean the Hero Turtle, right?”

Harry snorted and shook his head. “Louis.”

“What? I know my history, too. If you need a refresher on their origin story--”

“I don’t, actually--”

“Then I will be glad to fill you in. Otherwise, let’s join the group,” Louis concluded primly.

Harry faced forward and was surprised to see that the group had indeed moved towards the entrance. He followed Louis who was already greeting some of the other group members as he entered the building.

Inside the Pantheon, it was dimmer than Harry expected. The only light source appeared to be the oculus at the top of the dome, where sunlight was streaming in. The marble floor beneath his feet was designed in large squares of darker marble. For something so old, it was remarkably well-preserved, Harry thought as he crossed the floor.

Around the perimeter inside the round structure, more columns stood. Across the expanse of marble flooring, between the columns, stood tombs, while statues stood surveying the room. Harry wandered over to one, looking for an inscription or placard he could read.

“Umberto I, Re d’Italia,” he read above one tomb. There was a sign that gave more details next to him. Harry lost track of Louis as he wandered around the perimeter of the large structure. He felt odd taking photos of the tombs for some reason, as if he was intruding on something sacred.

The largest crowd stood clustered near a tomb further off, and included in the crowd was Louis. Harry observed him for a moment as he regarded the tomb in front of him. While it was clear Louis was a tourist, he didn’t bear the trademark camera or backpack that most travelers wore. In his faded jeans and Joy Division tee, he could have been a local who wandered in on his lunch break. Harry walked over to join him.

When Louis heard footsteps, he turned to see Harry approaching and smiled enigmatically.

“Behold,” Louis whispered, pulling Harry by the arm toward the tomb. “Raphael.”

Surprised, Harry stared intently at the tomb in question. A sculpture of a Madonna holding her child stood between columns, and below in a glass-encased tomb was a box that must have held the painter’s bones. Harry silently paid his respects, all the while feeling Louis’ eyes on him. He finally turned his head a fraction to meet Louis’ eyes, and found them sparkling with mirth.

Slowly, Louis leaned closer and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Turtle Power!”

Harry closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to hold back the laughter that threatened to spill out in front of the tomb and several witnesses. Wordlessly, he grabbed a snickering Louis’ hand and pulled him briskly out the door of the Pantheon. Then he whirled to face him. 

“Did you just…?” he couldn’t finish his sentence sternly; a smile cracked through.

“Make a Hero Turtles reference in front of the bones of Raphael? Yes, yes I did,” Louis confirmed, giggling behind one dainty hand.

“ _ Turtle Power,  _ Louis? Really?”

“Cowabunga,” Louis shrugged, then doubled over laughing.

Harry buried his face in his hands and groaned. “A child,” he lamented. “I’m touring Europe with a child.”

Louis continued laughing, until crinkles formed by his eyes and his already-tanned face was pink from giggling.

Harry took one look at him, then at the bewildered tourists passing by, and then cracked up.

“Oh my god,” Harry laughed, turning back to face Louis. “That’s like...sacreligious, or something.”

Louis shook his head in defiance. “Somewhere, dusty old Raphael is smiling down on us.”

Harry giggled at the mental image. “Or he’s planning to haunt us.”

Louis shrugged again, his laughter dying down to quiet chuckles. “Hey, Harry, wait--let’s go back in. Take my picture in front of Raphael.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“Nope,” Harry said, finding some steps in the shade to sit down on. “Ask Bob.”

Louis sighed in frustration, then sat down next to Harry. There was a beat of silence, and then Louis began humming the theme song to Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles.

Harry shook his head in exasperation, but was hopelessly endeared. “Okay,” he finally relented. “No Raphael photos, but I’ll settle for a selfie.”

Louis paused his humming and grinned. “Okay.” He pulled out his phone, leaned closer to Harry, and snapped a photo. While he reviewed the photos he had taken that day, Harry stared out across the piazza.

“What’s next?” Louis asked, finally pocketing his phone.

Harry consulted his itinerary, and then broke into a wide smile. “The Trevi Fountain!”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “I mean, I love fountains as much as the next guy, but what’s so special about this one?”

Harry began flipping through his guidebook excitedly. “It’s a tradition, when you visit the fountain. You throw a coin over your shoulder into the fountain, and it’s good luck...means you’ll return to Rome someday.”

Louis considered this, then nodded. “Yeah, that sounds pretty cool.”

“What do you want to do while we wait? We have,” Harry checked the time, “ten minutes.”

“Play a game?” Louis offered, watching the people walk by.

“Okay,” Harry agreed easily. “What game?”

“People watching. Tell their life story.”

“Ooh, fun!” Harry mused. “You can go first.”

“Okay,” Louis said, scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on a man about their age, staring intently down at his phone. Every few seconds, he would look around as if waiting for someone. “That guy.”

“Phone guy?”

“Yeah. So he met a girl at a bar last night, and she said she was visiting from France. Phone guy was totally smitten, right? So he asks to see her again, and she promises to meet him tomorrow at the Pantheon.”

“But she never showed,” Harry guessed, watching the anxious man scan the crowd.

“She never showed,” Louis confirmed with a somber nod. “Here’s the kicker: that was three months ago. And even though she’s long gone, he can’t let her go. Every afternoon, he comes here and waits, in hopes she will appear.”

“Jesus,” Harry said, suddenly feeling sad. “You’re good at this.”

“Okay, your turn,” Louis replied, sweeping a hand towards the sea of tourists milling about.

Harry stared for a moment, then zeroed in on a young woman standing with a toddler. “Okay,” he said, pointing subtly at the woman. “Her.”

Louis followed his line of sight, then nodded. “Mother, or nanny?” he asked.

“Mother. The nanny is sick today, and she already promised her little boy they would come here today. But he’s not used to obeying her, because the nanny spends most of the time with him.”

“Okay,” Louis replied, following along.

Together, they observed the woman crouch down and speak to her son. He shook his head and looked away. She tried again, unsuccessfully. She took the boy’s hand to lead him away from the piazza, and he resisted. Then she stood to her full height and pulled out her phone.

“Uh oh,” Louis said with a grin.

“Yep,” Harry replied. “Now she’s calling her husband at work--he’s a lawyer, very busy--to tell him what her son is doing. She wants him to come pick them up, but he’s swamped at work. She’s saying he can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Yikes,” Louis winced.

“But little does she know, he’s actually spending his lunch break with his secretary, like he does every day. His young, pretty, single secretary.”

Louis gasped and stared at the woman across the way. “You mean he’s cheating on her?”

“Oh yes,” Harry nodded seriously. “But there’s more. She’s cheating on him, too.”

“With who?” Louis exclaimed.

Harry turned to face him with a mischievous smile. “The nanny.”

Louis’ smile widened until he barked out a laugh. “Nicely done, H.”

Harry smiled, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach from the way Louis was smiling at him and the way he called him that simple nickname. Harry gestured back to the woman and her son. Now she appeared to be luring him to a gelato stand.

“Good luck, sister,” Harry said, watching them go. “What a family.”

“Fun game,” Louis remarked, shaking his head fondly. “I think it’s time to go.”

Harry turned to see the rest of the Sunset Tour group emerge from the Pantheon. Together, he and Louis stood and walked to meet them.

“Everything okay, boys?” Bob asked, frowning.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Harry said. “Just getting some fresh air.”

Bob nodded in agreement. “Sure is a nice day, isn’t it?”

“Very nice,” Louis replied with a smile. “Where to now?”

“To the Trevi Fountain!” Bob exclaimed with a smile.

Harry stepped aside to let Bob through, so he could lead the group onward. “We will be crossing Via del Corso,” Bob continued, walking down the steps, “which is a busy street, so the coach is going to meet us around the corner. Quicker that way.”

Harry didn’t know about the rest of the group, but he was glad for a few minutes’ rest. How were these senior citizens still upright? Harry’s feet were killing him.

As if reading his mind, Louis stepped closer and murmured, “On a scale of one to ten, how tired are you right now?”

“Eleven,” Harry groaned, and Louis chuckled.

“Honestly, same.”

“How are these people still going?” Harry whispered, watching the group file past.

“God only knows,” Louis replied.

Feeling more than a little exhausted, Harry followed Louis away from the Pantheon and towards the air-conditioned coach.

*

“The Trevi Fountain,” Bob explained a few minutes later as they disembarked the coach, “is Rome’s most celebrated fountain. Gather ‘round, everyone.”

Harry slipped his sunglasses back on as he stepped out into the sunlight. He and Louis walked closer to the circle that was forming around Bob as he spoke.

“It was built by Nicola Salvi between 1732-1762. While also impressive at night, it is still worth our visit today.”

Amidst the noise of the water rushing in the fountain, Harry also noted the murmur of tourists’ voices as they crowded around the edge of the fountain, taking photos.

“Dare you to put your feet in,” Louis’ voice called softly from beside Harry as they walked closer.

“Are you that determined to be detained by the carabinieri?” Harry asked with a laugh.

“Look at all these people here,” Louis countered. “They can’t watch everyone all the time.”

“Yes, all these  _ witnesses  _ to our crimes. I don’t think so.”

Louis sighed next to him and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “no fun.”

Harry shook his head as he neared the fountain’s edge. He began digging in his pocket for some loose change. When he procured a Euro, he beamed at Louis.

“Take my picture?” he asked.

Louis nodded and waited for Harry to pull out his phone. He handed it to Louis.

“How’s this?” Harry asked, standing in front of the fountain. He held up the Euro in his hand as if to throw it over his shoulder.

“Do you have to make a wish?” Louis asked, lining up the shot.

“Might as well,” Harry shrugged, then smiled for the photo.

Harry took the phone back from Louis and then they swapped positions so Louis could get his picture at the fountain. After Harry took the photo, Louis briefly turned to survey the water in the fountain.

“You have to see this,” Louis called over his shoulder. “There’s a gold mine in here.”

Harry laughed and walked to the fountain’s edge to stand by Louis. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, poking Louis on the arm. “Carabinieri, remember?”

Louis rolled his eyes, but stepped back. “We could’ve been rich, is all I’m saying.”

“We’re scheduled to spend an hour here,” Harry replied, checking his itinerary. “Now what?”

“We could play the game again,” Louis suggested, turning to face the crowd of tourists.

“People watch: fountain edition?” Harry asked with a glint in his eye. “Let’s do it.”

The two sat down a few steps back from the fountain and then surveyed the crowd. They spent several minutes like that, people watching and making up increasingly elaborate stories about people’s lives. When Bob waved a hand at the back of the crowd and boomed, “Sunset Tours, leaving in five minutes!” Harry and Louis stood and went to join the group.

*

The next stop, according to their entirely too chipper tour guide was the Spanish Steps.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Louis said when he stopped in front of a large staircase squeezed between two random buildings, “but this wasn’t it.”

Harry looked up from his guidebook to see they were indeed at the foot of a grand staircase, where groups of tourists and maybe even locals were lounging. It was pretty, but Harry was puzzled as well.

“What do we do now?” Harry asked. 

Louis shrugged and turned to face him. “Sit, I guess?”

Together, they ambled over to a vacant spot on the steps. Harry flipped through his guidebook, and Louis appeared to be sending a Snap. After a moment, Harry found the information about the steps.

“Want to hear what it says?” he asked Louis.

“Sure, why not?”

“Okay, let’s see...hmm...Well, for starters, they’re not Spanish; they were actually made by the French.”

“Misleading, that,” Louis commented.

“Crowning the top of the stairs is the graceful Trinita dei Monti Church,” Harry added.

Together, they turned to look up at the top of the stairs, where a church indeed stood.

“Huh, funny I didn’t notice that before,” Louis replied thoughtfully.

“Want to go check it out?” Harry asked, closing his book.

“Umm…”

“I’ll race you to the top,” Harry challenged with a grin.

Louis’ face lit up at the prospect. “You’re going down, Styles. Let’s go.”

Louis was up in a flash. “Don’t hit any tourists!” Harry called after him. Louis didn’t even turn; he simply flipped the bird and giggled. Then, realizing he was getting left behind, Harry jumped up to follow Louis to the top, laughing as he went.

*

It should have been no surprise to Harry that Louis left him in the dust on the Spanish Steps; although smaller, Louis was definitely quicker. Nevertheless, by the time Harry scaled his way to the top, he found Louis doubled over with his hands braced on his knees gasping for breath. When he saw Harry, Louis’ expression blossomed into a smug smile.

“Told ya I’d win,” Louis said, still trying to catch his breath.

Harry scowled and put his hands on his hips, blowing a stray curl off the side of his face. “Yeah, yeah. I guess loser buys a drink, then?”

Louis slowly stood to his full height, wiping sweat off his brow. “You guess correctly.”

“Water?” Harry asked, wheezing a little.

“Please,” Louis said with a grin. “I’ll just take a seat here on the top step and enjoy the view.”

Harry nodded and wandered over to a small cart where a line of tourists were waiting to be served cold drinks. He figured anyone who could scale those stairs deserved one.

Harry pulled a black elastic off his wrist and tied his now-sweaty hair up in a bun. When it was his turn, he purchased two bottles of water and headed back to where Louis was perched on the top step. Wordlessly, he extended one of the bottles to Louis, who reached for it without ever taking his eyes off the steps.

“Grazie,” Louis replied.

“Um, you’re welcome,” Harry said, realizing he didn’t know the Italian translation for that.

There was silence for a moment as they both uncapped their drinks and enjoyed the ice-cold water. Louis was still staring at the swarm of tourists congregating on the steps below, so Harry pulled out his phone and sent the group chat a text.

_ Enjoying the view from the Spanish Steps!  _ He typed, then attached a photo of the steps below. He put down his phone to take another drink, and when he turned to face Louis, he found him to be already staring at him.

“What?” Harry asked self-consciously.

“Nothing,” Louis said with a fond smile. “You could just pass for a local, is all. Cool shades, stylish old boots--”

“Excuse you, these are vintage--”

“And a little ponytail,” Louis continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “No wonder people were checking you out.”

Harry frowned. “Checking me out?”

Louis nodded back towards the drink cart. “That group of girls was watching you and giggling.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and turned to look. Sure enough, a small cluster of teenagers were whispering behind their hands and giggling.

“I didn’t even notice,” Harry confessed, turning back to face Louis.

“You tend to have that effect on people,” Louis admitted with a bemused smile.

“Hey, you’re one to talk,” Harry joked. “That guard checked you out first thing this morning.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Louis asked, as if just recalling the moment. “Wow.”

“He was all,” Harry grinned and lowered his sunglasses to peer at Louis, “ _ buongiorno, amore.” _

Louis rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were tinged pink. “He did not call me amore, Harry.”

“He was thinking it,” Harry said with a shrug, still smiling wide.

“Hmm,” Louis mused, taking another sip of his water. “Guess we’re both too handsome for our own good.”

“Cheers,” Harry said, clinking his bottle against Louis’.

“How do you say that in Italian?” Louis wondered aloud.

Harry pulled out his Italian phrasebook and squinted in the sunlight. “It’s, um...saluti.”

“Okay,” Louis said with a thoughtful nod. “Saluti, then.”

They finished their bottles of water in companionable silence, watching the crowds below on the steps.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Louis said, breaking the silence, “but what’s next?”

According to the itinerary, it was the Capuchin Bone Church, Harry noted. He pointed out to Louis that that was the last scheduled stop of the day.

“And then dinner with the old timers,” Louis reminded Harry.

“Is it weird that I’m excited?” Harry asked.

“Nah,” Louis replied. “They seem pretty cool.”

“We have some time before we need to meet Bob,” Harry said. “Let’s find out what this church is about.”

Harry flipped through his guidebook for a moment. He found the entry for the church, and then raised his eyebrows. “Oh god,” he murmured.

“What?” Louis asked.

“Well, it’s got three stars, so that’s good,” Harry began hesitantly.

“But?”

“Um...but listen to this. ‘This must see church crypt is decorated with thousands of artfully arranged monks’ bones. Each chapel is a bizarre diorama where propped up monks, still in their desiccated skin and cassocks, strike cautionary poses.’”

“Jesus,” Louis said with a low whistle.

“It’s in Piazza Barberini, not far from here,” Harry replied. “Wonder if we’ll walk.”

“God, I hope not,” Louis groaned. “How are these old people outlasting us?”

“Right? Look at them,” Harry said, pointing down to the bottom of the staircase.

Louis followed his line of sight and saw several of the Sunset Tours travelers posing for a photo with big smiles. Some were holding bottles of water like Harry and Louis, and some even had shopping bags.

“When did they have time to go shopping?” Louis asked dazedly.

“Who knows,” Harry sighed. Just then, his phone buzzed with notifications from The Von Trapp Family Singers.

_ Anne: lovely day for sightseeing! _

_ Gemma: having fun with the senior citizens? _

_ Niall: Louis beat you to the top, didn’t he? _

Harry scoffed at that last one and frowned down at his phone. Louis turned with a questioning glance, and Harry wordlessly showed him the screen. Louis read the message thread, then barked out a laugh.

“I told you I would win, H!” he crowed triumphantly. “See, Niall knows. Good lad.”

Harry rolled his eyes and typed back a row of crying emojis. That would do for now.

“Think it’s time to go,” Louis said, gesturing down the stairs to Bob, who was rounding up the group. “Ready?”

Harry pocketed his phone, then nodded. “Ready.”

Bob led the group down yet another alley that opened onto a busy street, where miraculously the coach was parked at the curb.

“Oh, thank god,” Louis muttered, and Harry could only nod. His feet were beyond tired.

*

“The Capuchin Crypt,” Bob explained a few short minutes later at the entrance to the church, “is located beneath the church of Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini. We will enter here, and then descend to the crypt.”

A few of the travelers murmured excitedly at the prospect of seeing the old monks’ bones. Harry didn’t know about Louis, but mostly he was just glad they’d be out of the sun for a while.

Bob led the group into the church, which from the outside didn’t seem as ornate as some of the basilicas they had passed that day. But once they descended below the church, things got interesting.

“The crypt here,” Bob continued as they wove their way to the first chapel, “contains the bones of over 4,000 friars buried here between 1500 and the 1870s.”

The only lighting was dim traces of sunlight seeping in through the cracks in the crypt, and a few fluorescent lights. Being underground, it was damp and cool as well. It seemed everywhere Harry looked, he was being watched by artfully-arranged skulls and shadows.

Louis appeared to be fascinated, nodding along with Bob’s explanation, but when Harry caught his eye and raised his brows in a silent question, Louis ambled closer.

“Could this be any creepier?” he whispered in Harry’s ear.

Just then, Bob pointed out a small sign in one of the chapels:

_ What you are now, we once were; what we are now, you shall be. _

Harry leaned closer to Louis without ever taking his eyes off the sign. “Yes, it can be creepier. Oh my god.”

Louis giggled, and Harry turned to face Louis with wide eyes. Louis shrugged and covered his mouth to contain his laughter. Finally, he cleared his throat quietly and whispered to Harry,

“This is some  _ Goonies _ level stuff, here, H.”

Harry closed his eyes and sighed, hoping no one else heard.

“It is!” Louis insisted, prodding Harry in the ribs. “At any moment, I’m expecting to see a pirate map and a skeleton dressed like One-Eyed Willie.”

“If you see a treasure map, just walk away,” Harry advised with a grin.

Apparently, they were whispering too loudly, because a white-haired couple in front of Harry and Louis turned to give them disapproving stares.

Harry and Louis promptly stopped whispering and tried to pay attention to Bob. When the couple turned back around, Harry met Louis’ eyes and grinned. From that point on, the tour of the crypt was one massive  _ Goonies  _ reference for them. Harry just hoped the skeletons lining the walls had a sense of humor, too.

*

“Well, Sunset Tours travelers,” Bob said as the group took the coach back to the hotel, “we’ve had a great first day, haven’t we?”

Many passengers murmured their assent, and there was a smattering of applause. Harry cast a side-eye at Louis and grinned. They both clapped politely.

“Yes, and now the rest of the evening is yours. Get dinner, try some authentic Roman wine, and then get some sleep--we start bright and early tomorrow!” Bob concluded.

Back at the Boscolo Exedra hotel, Harry and Louis waved at Flavio, who was working the desk again, and arrived at the elevator.

“Do you think we have time to relax a little before dinner?” Louis asked.

Harry checked the time. “Believe so. I told Ruth we’d meet them in the lobby at 6.”

“I need a cigarette and a shower,” Louis sighed. “And to get out of these shoes.”

Harry nodded. “Same. My feet are dead.”

Once in their room, they were greeted with a blast of refreshing AC. Harry and Louis toed off their shoes at the door. While Louis made a beeline for the window to smoke, Harry flopped down heavily on the fluffy cream duvet on the bed.

“I’m never moving again,” Harry groaned, staring up at the chandelier. “Leave me here to die.”

Louis snorted from the window and exhaled a plume of smoke. “And miss Rome, day 2? And Venice? And Paris? No way.”

“Paris,” Harry sighed happily. “Yes.”

“Take a shower,” Louis suggested. “You’ll feel better. Then we can go eat.”

Harry nodded slowly and rose to a sitting position. He pulled the elastic out of his hair, yawned, and then grabbed some fresh clothes from his suitcase. “Be right back,” he said over his shoulder as he headed into the en suite.

“Take your time,” Louis called back.

Harry certainly intended to.

*

After under a scalding shower with the luxurious shower heads (heads, plural, as Louis had said), Harry felt like a new person. He wiped the steam off the large bathroom mirror and dressed in one of his favorite outfits. By the time he had checked that everything was in place (and double checked; he was single again, alright?) and exited the bathroom, he expected to find Louis napping.

On the contrary, Louis was reclined against a small mountain of pillows against the embroidered headboard of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, chatting on the phone. When he met Harry’s eyes, he wrapped up the call.

“Yes, mum, I know. I remember. Okay, I’ll tell him; he just got out of the shower. Okay, love you. Bye.”

“How’s your mum?” Harry asked, sinking down onto the foot of the bed to put on his socks.

“Good, good,” Louis replied, dropping his phone onto the bed and leaning back against the pillows. “She says hi, and she misses you, and to make sure I don’t get kidnapped.”

Harry chuckled and nodded. “Will do.”

“I’m just going to shower after dinner; I went ahead and changed,” Louis said, anticipating Harry’s next question.

“Okay.”

“Nice sweater, by the way.”

Harry looked down at the soft black sweater he had paired with his black jeans. “Thanks. It’s really soft.”

Louis cracked a smile, then stood from the bed. “Want to get shoes on, and then we can meet our dinner dates?”

Harry grinned and nodded. Together, then slipped on their shoes, grabbed wallets and room keys and phones, and left the hotel room.

In the lobby, they found Ruth and James perched on a crushed-velvet sofa chatting. Well, Ruth was chatting; James was listening with an amused smile. When they saw Harry and Louis approaching, Ruth stopped her story and waved enthusiastically.

“Buona sera, boys!” she called with a smile. “Ready for dinner?”

Harry and Louis nodded politely, and then followed Ruth and James to the exit.

“You look lovely, by the way,” Harry remarked to Ruth, who had chosen a cream linen trouser suit and matching flats.

Ruth’s face lit up. “Why, thank you, Harry! Aren’t you just precious?”

James called over the porter, who radioed for a taxi. When it arrived, a sleek black Mercedes van, they all piled in and buckled up.

“So, where are we going?” Louis asked politely, settling into his seat.

“The  _ best _ place we’ve found this side of Rome,” Ruth exclaimed.

“Close to the Colosseum, too,” James added. “Thought you’d like to see it lit up at night.”

“The city is simply gorgeous at night,” Ruth said. “So romantic! You’ll love it.”

Harry and Louis exchanged glances at the word ‘romantic.’ Harry opened his mouth to explain that he and Louis weren’t dating, when Ruth added,

“It’s so lovely to meet such kind new friends. You know, James and I have been together over 50 years. It’s refreshing to meet young people just starting out.”

Harry caught Louis’ eye and mouthed,  _ Now what? _

Louis shrugged, wide-eyed, and tuned back in to what Ruth and James were saying.

“...first time we came to Rome, do you remember, dear?” Ruth asked.

James chuckled. “Our first anniversary, 1968, I believe.”

“Tell them what we did,” Ruth urged happily.

“Well, mostly we stayed in bed...with the flu, that is. Terrible luck.”

“I came down with a ghastly flu the second day we were here,” Ruth explained. “And we ended up camped out in a hotel room watching  _ Bonanza  _ with Italian subtitles. For a whole week.”

“Remember how upset you were, thinking you ruined our anniversary?” James recalled.

“I was terribly upset,” Ruth confessed. “But you stayed right by my side, as always.”

James patted Ruth’s hand. “Of course, my dear.”

Harry snuck a glance at Louis to find him smiling serenely at the older couple, lost in thought.

When the taxi arrived at the restaurant, Harry did indeed see the Colosseum nearby. Even after spending part of the morning there, it still gave Harry chills.

A host greeted them as they walked in the door. “Benvenuto a hostaria da Isidoro al Colosseo!”

Harry let James lead the way to a table, where the host picked up a small card marking the table as reserved. Harry liked the restaurant instantly.

Inside, the walls were exposed brick. Soft yellow lamps lit the room, and the long rectangular tables were covered with red and white linens. A few other customers were enjoying glasses of wine at other tables. As they settled in, Ruth explained the menu.

“Our favorite is the pasta sampler for two. The chef actually selects pasta dishes for you, but they’re always delicious.”

Harry glanced at Louis questioningly. Louis shrugged and nodded. So that was settled at least.

“Now, the wine is stout, fellows, so take it easy,” James said with a wink.

Harry and Louis chuckled. Soon, a waiter came to take their orders, and then the conversation picked back up.

“So, boys, what do you do? Are you based in London?” Ruth asked.

“We are,” Harry answered. “I work for a graphic design company based in the city.”

“And I’m practice teaching now to teach in a primary classroom,” Louis added.

Ruth and James nodded in approval. “That’s exciting!” Ruth replied. “So how did you meet?”

“Where did you meet?” James added.

Harry exchanged amused glances with Louis, then chuckled. “We, um, met in a pub, actually.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “You make it sound weird!”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Would you like to tell it, then?”

Louis nodded primly. “I would, yes. So, like Harry was saying, we met in a pub. I was there one night with friends, and Harry was there to sing. Karaoke, that is.”

Ruth’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to try that!”

Harry winked at her. “Stick with me, and we’ll work something out.”

Louis continued the story. “So Harry was up on stage, singing some god-awful song--”

“Excuse you, it was Billy Joel--”

“And he spotted me in the crowd. Started singing right to me. All my friends noticed--actually, everyone noticed--and my friends were cracking up. You were wearing this, do you remember, this sheer blouse with tigers on it?” Louis asked.

“That is a  _ beautiful  _ shirt, Lou.”

“Right. And I had never seen anything so cheesy in my life.” Louis winced at the memory, secondhand embarrassment still strong to this day.

“You loved it,” Harry countered. “People actually gave me tips that night for singing.”

“Anyway,” Louis said in a lilting voice, “after that, er, performance, Harry asked to buy me a drink. And I said--”

“Can you do it without singing, Piano Man?” Harry interrupted with a grin.

“Yes. We got to talking, and the rest was history,” Louis recalled with a smile.

Ruth was smiling starry-eyed between Harry and Louis. “Isn’t that nice? What a great story!”

Harry caught Louis’ eye to find him smiling fondly. It was just like old times...minus the part where they were clearly broken up. Harry finally mustered up the courage to admit the truth to the sweet old couple, when he was interrupted by the arrival of dinner.

For the next few minutes, the group mostly ate in silence. Occasionally, someone would remark how delicious the pasta sampler was--and it really was, Harry noted--but otherwise, they just enjoyed the meal. When the waiter returned to fill their wine glasses, Ruth looked at Harry and Louis with a smile.

“Now, if you’d like, I’ll tell you our story, my dears.”

Harry and Louis nodded eagerly, and Ruth cleared her throat to begin.

“As James said, we were married in the 60s. It was a different time, you know. Society wasn’t as flexible as it is now. James was expected to work, and I was to keep house and raise the children.”

Ruth paused to look at James, and he nodded encouragingly. “But James made sure I knew from the start that we were equal partners in our marriage. We were in it together. Which was wonderful, let me tell you. Now, I desperately wanted a child, back then. We tried for years. Had several setbacks, and I had a lot of health problems along the way. I felt like giving up. But James always said,” Ruth explained, eyes fond, “that anything worth doing was worth the work. So we didn’t give up.”

James cleared his throat. “Our first and only daughter, Marie, was born eight years after we married. Our friends thought we were too old to have children, but I guess we never cared for convention.”

“We didn’t, did we?” Ruth asked, patting James’ hand. “Anyway, we raised Marie to be a strong young woman who had her own thoughts and goals, and she turned out alright, didn’t she?”

“She did,” James smiled fondly. “She had our granddaughter, and raised her to be independent and creative as well. She’s in medical school now.”

“That’s wonderful,” Louis added with a smile.

“Of course, it hasn’t always been smooth sailing for us,” Ruth admitted. “About ten years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. Had all the treatments and medical procedures you can imagine, and finally got the news I was in remission...only to find out two years later that the cancer was back.”

Ruth shrugged and dabbed at her eyes. “The doctors told me I had a year to live. I asked James what we should do. He said we would do what  _ I  _ wanted to do. So I said, I want to travel. Everywhere we can go, while we still have time. And we did.”

“We’ve been all over Europe and Asia, Greece and Turkey, and the United States,” James added with a smile. “Loved every minute of it.”

“It just made us realize that life is precious, you know? And to not waste it worrying or fighting over little things,” Ruth concluded with a teary but determined smile.

“That’s right, dear,” James said, lacing his weathered fingers with hers.

Harry used his napkin to wipe tears from his eyes, while Louis rubbed him consolingly on the back.

“That’s a wonderful story,” Harry said, regaining his voice as he wiped the tears away. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Well, thank you for listening,” Ruth said with a smile. “I’m sure you young people would have much more fun out exploring the night life.”

“Eh, not really,” Louis admitted, glancing at Harry for confirmation. “There’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

Dinner wound up lasting a good hour and a half, all told, which was fine with Harry. Like Louis said, he was exactly where he wanted to be. As they piled back into a taxi, James pointed out the beautifully-lit Colosseum.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked.

Harry and Louis shook their heads no. Harry snapped a few quick pictures of the ruins, and then turned to face their hosts for the evening. “I had a lovely time tonight. Thank you.”

“Oh, thank you, boys! Going out with new friends is wonderful, isn’t it?”

At the hotel doors, Harry and Louis bid the couple goodnight and strolled to the elevator. In their room, finally, Louis went to shower while Harry checked the time and shot Niall a text.

_ Threw a coin into the Trevi Fountain today and made a wish. _

Niall replied back seconds later, apparently still awake.  _ What did u wish for? _

Harry grinned and typed back,  _ Can’t tell. Or it won’t come true. Goodnight xoxo! _

_ Night, H. Glad you’re having fun! Xx _

Harry plugged his phone into the charger at his bedside table. He intended to wait until Louis came back to say goodnight, but once he undressed and crawled into bed, exhaustion weighed heavy on him. He dozed off with all the lights still on, thinking about the wish he made throwing his coin in the fountain.

_ I wish we could be like this together always. _

_ * _

Harry woke the next morning pressed against something soft, and for one horror-filled moment, he was sure he was cuddling Louis again. He warily opened one eye to survey the damage. To his mild amusement, Harry saw that Louis had solved the cuddling problem by being proactive.

A line of pillows neatly divided the bed in half, and Harry and Louis occupied each side. They weren’t even remotely touching. Harry grinned and closed his eyes again. Just one more minute of sleep couldn’t hurt, right?

The next time Harry woke up, it was to the feeling of a gentle hand pushing his shoulder. Harry frowned sleepily and slowly opened his eyes. Louis had breached the pillow wall and was sitting up in bed, shaking Harry’s shoulder to wake him.

“Wha?” Harry mumbled.

“I said, it’s time to wake up, Harry. Day 2, remember?”

“We’re in Rome,” Harry rasped, stirring a little. “Right?”

Louis chuckled and gave Harry’s shoulder one last gentle shove. “Right. Let’s get up.”

Harry sat up groggily and yawned, watching Louis rise from the bed and pad over to his suitcase for clean clothes. Nothing was said about the pillow wall on the bed, so Harry didn’t bring it up. He just swung his legs over the side of the bed and joined Louis scrounging for clothes. He managed to remember to bring his camera this time. 

After another world class breakfast (and the best cappuccino Harry had ever tasted), Harry and Louis joined Bob and the tour group in the lobby. Harry could see a glimpse of the coach outside at the curb, and counted his blessings. It was just too early still to go wandering around Rome on foot.

As they settled into seats on the sleek, air-conditioned coach, Louis turned to Harry.

“So, where are we going today?”

Harry reached for his phone, where he had taken photos of the paper itinerary so he didn’t have to carry it all day.

“According to this,” he replied, flipping through his camera roll, “we’re going to the Vatican and St. Peter’s first.”

“Are we dressed okay to go to a church?” Louis asked, frowning down at his simple tee shirt and black jeans.

“I think so. No rips in our jeans, no offensive slogans, and so on. Probably fine.”

“I’m going to Google it,” Louis replied, pulling out his phone. “Just in case.”

While Louis looked up the Vatican City dress code, Harry watched the neighborhoods pass by outside the coach window. He saw people coming and going, talking on phones or drinking coffee in cafes, and wondered about their lives. Wondered what had brought them to Rome.

“Hey, Lou, look,” Harry said a few moments later. “There’s a river.”

Louis perked up in his seat. “What river is it?”

“I...don’t know. Hold on.”

Just then, Bob’s booming voice called through the coach, “And to your left, we have the Tiber River, folks!”

Harry and Louis exchanged amused glances and put down their various devices.

“Well, that settles that,” Louis quipped under his breath.

Harry pulled out his guidebook and read about things to see at the Vatican Museum. He didn’t know how they were expected to cover everything in 2 hours.

The coach stopped a few moments later, and the group piled out onto the sidewalk of a busy street.

“We are now at the crossing of Ponte St. Angelo,” Bob explained, leading the group towards a picturesque footbridge. “To your right is the Castel Sant’ Angelo, which we will tour on the way back. This will lead us into Piazza San Pietro, or St. Peter’s Square. The Vatican Museums are just past that.”

It was a beautiful morning for a walk, Harry had to admit. He was well-rested, caffeinated, and ready to explore. He turned to face Louis with a smile. 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Louis grinned and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

The walk past Castel Sant’ Angelo revealed an impressive fortress-style structure that looked like it would take days to explore in itself. The group passed cafes with open doors, revealing locals chatting over their morning espresso and pastries. Harry pulled out his Canon DSLR and snapped a few photos of the scenery.

The road leading to St. Peter’s Square was lined with vendors selling everything from cashmere scarves to sunglasses to toys for children. Harry was tempted to stop and do a little shopping, until he felt a hand at the small of his back and turned to face Louis.

Louis gave him a wry smile and, as if reading his mind, explained, “No time to shop now, H.”

Harry huffed a sigh but nodded, staring longingly at the wares displayed on tables along the way. When they reached the square, finally, Harry’s jaw dropped.

The square itself was actually round, framed on all sides by massive columns and dotted with statues. The smooth, grey cobblestones were worn down from centuries of foot traffic from travelers. And in the center of the square stood an enormous fountain with a towering obelisk in the middle, reaching towards the sky. Beyond that, in all its glory, stood St. Peter’s Basilica.

“God,” Louis murmured, clearly impressed. “Harry, take pictures. This is...wow.”

Harry nodded, already lining up a few shots of the vast square. However, Bob kept them moving, as they were on a schedule.

“We’ll spend more time here on the way back,” he promised to the group.

By the time the group reached the Vatican Museum, a crowd was forming a line to enter. The morning sun was warming the top of Harry’s head and shoulders, and he was a little thirsty. But the surroundings were definitely impressive.

The museum itself sat in a large, grassy courtyard which featured a large bronze sculpture of a sphere within a sphere. The longer he looked at it, the more puzzled Harry was. Slowly, the rest of the tour group congregated around the sculpture.

Bob chose this moment to explain, “There are many interpretations of the sculpture’s meaning. Some believe it signifies the rebirth of the world, while some view it as the Earth surrounded by Christianity. No one knows for sure, though.”

Harry shrugged and snapped a few pictures of the sculpture, then followed the group to the ticket window,

They luckily didn’t have to wait long, as Bob had reserved tickets already. The group entered into the lobby of the museum and were welcomed with a blast of AC. Bob led the group towards a vacant corner, and then gave instructions.

“I will be happy to lead you through the various rooms and exhibits of the museum this morning; however, you are welcome to explore on your own. Don’t miss the Map Room, Raphael Rooms, and the Sistine Chapel. We will meet back here in two hours, and then proceed to St. Peter’s.”

Harry looked at Louis, who shrugged and then nodded towards the first part of the museum as if to say, “let’s explore on our own.” Harry nodded, and together they ambled around the lobby to begin their tour. A courtesy sign instructed all visitors to silence their phones, which Harry and Louis did. Then, they began their tour.

Honestly, the next two hours passed in kind of a blur for Harry. Right from the start, though, he found the Map Room enchanting. While the walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting numerous places in the country, the ceiling held his attention the longest. The ceiling of the room was vaulted and elaborately painted with frescoes and decorative woodwork. Soft yellow lighting around the perimeter of the room highlighted the magnificent ceiling, and Harry found himself taking pictures over and over. He found Louis in front of the map of Sicily, and took a photo of Louis holding the thumbs-up sign at the map and grinning broadly.

In the Raphael Rooms, every inch of space was painted in elaborate, rich-colored frescoes and paintings. Harry had the feeling two hours wasn’t enough to really explore this museum. So he and Louis tried to budget their time to save enough for the Sistine Chapel at the end. Looking up at a fresco of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, Harry was impressed. He and Louis spent a minute in debate over whether the figure in the tree behind Adam and Eve was a woman or the mythical serpent...or both.

“No Hero Turtle remarks this time for poor Raphael?” Harry joked as they made their way to the next room.

Louis shrugged. “It felt different in there...like there were a million eyes on me, staring from every direction. I didn’t want to step out of line.”

Harry chuckled. “You mean all I had to do to make you behave was set you in a room full of Biblical frescoes? Good to know.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Louis warned, poking Harry in the ribs.

In the Pinacoteca, which google informed Harry meant “picture gallery,” they viewed Raphael’s “Madonna of Foligno,” Da Vinci’s “St. Jerome in the Wilderness,” and Caravaggio’s “Entombment,” which was mind-boggling in its beauty and macabre subject. Harry felt weird snapping a picture of it.

By the time they reached the Sistine Chapel, Harry and Louis’ necks were already sore from staring at frescoes. But they soldiered on. The chapel itself was full of tourists, standing room only, and guards patrolled the room.

Harry stopped in a relatively empty space and looked up and just. Froze. His jaw dropped, and he forgot to breathe for a moment. Every inch of space in the chapel depicted Biblical scenes and vibrant colors. When he spotted Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” in one of the frescoes, he reached for Louis without taking his eyes off it.

Louis, who had also been perusing the room, followed Harry’s line of sight. “Is that--?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, automatically reaching for his camera. A sharp elbow to the ribs stopped him in his tracks.

“Harry,” Louis hissed, “you can’t take pictures in here.”

Harry finally looked down, puzzled. “What? Why?”

Louis shrugged. “There are signs. And guards. Big guards.”

“But Lou--”

“We can buy a postcard in the gift shop, babe. But is it worth spending the rest of your life with the carabinieri?”

Harry sighed and hung his head. He gave Louis his best puppy eyes, smiling hopefully.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Louis said, as if reading his mind. “Absolutely not.”

“What? I didn’t say anything!” Harry protested.

“You were going to ask me to create a diversion so you could take a picture. And the answer is no.”

“Lou, please.”

“No, Harry.”

“Louissss…”

“No! What would I even do?” Louis countered.

Harry leaned closer and whispered, “Bend down like you’re tying your shoe. I’ll hand you the camera. Just use the zoom and take a few pictures.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “You planned this all along.”

Harry shrugged, expression twitching into a small smile. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god. Okay. Give me the camera then.”

Harry glanced around and found all the guards otherwise engaged. He handed his camera to Louis, who dropped down on one knee as if to tie his shoe. Harry cast nervous glances over his shoulder as Louis carefully positioned the camera, zoomed in on the frescoes above, and snapped a series of photos. It must have only taken about five seconds, but to Harry it was a nerve-wracking lifetime.

When Louis stood up, there was a sparkle in his eye. He grinned and nodded to confirm the mission was successful. He handed the camera back to Harry with a flourish.

“Now, if we go to Italian jail, I will never let you hear the end of it,” Louis warned, but his grin was bright.

Harry held up a hand for a high five. “Dream team.”

“Dream team,” Louis echoed with a nod, slapping Harry’s palm.

“Dinner’s on me tonight,” Harry promised.

“You bet it is. Now, let’s go find Bob. This place is making me claustrophobic.”

*

Harry and Louis found most of the Sunset Tours group lounging out in the lobby when they exited the chapel. Ruth and James were sitting on a bench, and waved them over eagerly.

“Oh, boys, hello! Was this your first time seeing the chapel?” Ruth asked. “Wasn’t it gorgeous?”

Harry and Louis exchanged a small smile at the memory of their criminal activity. “Absolutely gorgeous,” Louis replied. “So lovely it should be  _ illegal.” _

“Yes,” Harry coughed, trying not to laugh. “It’s absolutely  _ criminal  _ that more people haven’t gotten to see it.”

“Isn’t it?” Ruth asked with wide eyes. “What did you think of ‘The Last Judgment’?”

Harry experienced a moment of panic as his mind blanked. Did they even look at that one? Louis stepped on Harry’s toe in retribution, then replied, “Personally, I think it was a show-stopper. Wish we had pictures--don’t you, Harry?”

“Um, yes,” Harry fibbed. “Shame we don’t.”

“Shame,” Louis echoed. “So, shall we head to St. Peter’s?”

Ruth and James both stood as Bob rounded the corner and corralled the group together. Louis turned to Harry with a murderous expression and murmured, “You owe me for life, Styles.”

“Noted,” Harry whispered under his breath. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

The group traced its way back to St. Peter’s square, where the sun was now bearing down in all its glory. Harry wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and thanked his early-morning self for bringing his hair elastic. He pulled his sweaty curls up into a bun, then sighed in relief as a slight breeze hit his neck. When they passed a row of vendors, Harry bought two bottles of water and jogged to catch up with the group.

Louis accepted the bottle of water with a nod and drank it eagerly. “God, art makes me thirsty,” he lamented. “Thank you.”

“Least I could do, partner in crime.”

“I still can’t believe we did that,” Louis snickered. “You better frame every single one of those photos, I swear to god.”

Harry laughed, enjoying the wind in his face and the fresh air. “I will. I’ll send you copies.”

“I expect nothing less. Now, what does your trusty book say about St. Peter’s?”

Harry pulled out his copy of  _ Rome Day by Day  _ and flipped through to find the right page. When he located the information, he read:

_ Designed in the 1630s by Bernini to mimic a human embrace, this sweeping colonnade is the gateway to the largest church in the world. In the center stands an Egyptian obelisk that once marked the center of Nero’s Circus, where St. Peter was martyred in AD 64. _

Harry looked up to see Louis scanning the spacious square with a slight frown. “How does it mimic a human embrace, then?” he asked.

Harry bit his lip in thought. “It’s like...arms open wide for a hug. Or something.”

“Right,” Louis mused slowly. “Whatever you say. Want to check out the tall thing?”

Together, they made their way to the center of the piazza, where an enormous monument stood. The obelisk rising from its center was so impressive, Harry took several photos.

“Stand in front of it,” he told Louis. “I’ll get your picture.”

Louis ambled over to the edge and stopped, squinting into the sunlight. Harry snapped a photo, and then they switched places. A glance around showed Bob and the tour group were lining up to enter the basilica, so Harry and Louis joined them.

“Haven’t been to church in a while,” Louis confessed as they stared at the grandeur of the basilica.

“I don’t think God keeps score,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Let’s check it out.”

Passing the entrance, where a guard kept a watchful eye for dress code violations, Harry and Louis entered the basilica. Compared to the bright sunlight outside, the interior was dim and much cooler.

“Can we talk in here?” Louis whispered, leaning closer.

“I think so,” Harry whispered back, “but quietly.”

“What does your book say about this place?”

Harry returned to his bookmarked page, and held it closer for Louis to read. Together, they scanned the passage.

_ Everything in St. Peter’s is made of marble, bronze, or gold, and what appear to be altar paintings are actually mosaics with miniscule ‘tesserae.’ The outstanding artworks in the basilica include Michelangelo’s intensely moving “Pieta” and Bernini’s spiral-legged bronze baldacchino. _

“Balda-what?” Louis whispered, pulling the book up to eye level. “What is it?”

“Let’s go find out,” Harry whispered back, pocketing the book. “Come on.”

Together, they went in search of whatever it was Bernini had sculpted in bronze. Milling through the crowds, Harry and Louis stayed side by side this time to avoid getting lost--the interior of the basilica was that large. Eventually, Louis pointed straight ahead where a towering bronze sculpture stood.

“Good eye,” Harry praised him. “Now...what is it?”

“It’s like a canopy...thing...with spiral legs. God, I don’t know,” Louis sighed. “Maybe there’s a sign.”

Standing tall directly underneath the dome of the basilica, the sculpture marked the altar of the church. It was roped off, of course, but Harry and Louis wandered as close as they could.

“Okay, so there are...angels at the four corners on the top,” Harry whispered. “And above that, a golden cross.”

“Okay, I’m getting the symbolism kind of,” Louis nodded. “And it really is beautiful. And huge.”

Harry took a few photos of the canopy sculpture, as respectfully as he could. Harry and Louis kept their voices down as they wandered the rest of the basilica together. At one point, Louis veered to the left to observe something that caught his eye, and Harry stayed back a few steps. With his back to Harry, and the sunlight streaming in around him, Louis looked ethereal. Harry took a sneaky photo, then strode over to catch up.

Friends called each other ethereal, right? Right. Harry wasn’t dwelling on it.

The rest of their hour at the basilica was spent just walking, seeing everything their untrained eyes could see. They encountered a breathtaking sculpture of Jesus lying prone on the lap of Mary after the crucifixion, which Harry’s book identified as Michelangelo’s “Pieta.”

“It’s the only piece he ever signed,” Harry whispered in awe, studying the masterpiece. He raised his camera to take a photo as if in a daze.

“H, I think it’s time to go,” Louis said, finally breaking the reverent silence. He pressed a gentle hand at the small of Harry’s back to lead him back to the entrance. Harry remembered that he had thrown his coin into the Trevi Fountain just yesterday, with the intention of one day returning to Rome, but leaving the sculpture before him made him strangely sad.

“C’mon, babe, let’s get some fresh air and some lunch in you. You’ll be good as new,” Louis said, once again detecting Harry’s mood without asking.

“Yeah,” Harry said faintly, reluctantly turning from the sculpture. “Let’s go.”

*

To the dismay of the entire tour group, Bob had squeezed one more stop in before lunch.

“Castel Sant’Angelo,” he explained in defense of the site, “is a must-see. Life changing, even.”

“Not as life changing as a plate of pasta,” Louis murmured while rubbing Harry’s back sympathetically.

“We’re going to die in this castle,” Harry groaned dejectedly. “Tell my mum I loved her.”

“Why don’t you text her on the way?” Louis suggested. “And you should call her tonight. She will be missing you.”

Harry nodded and ambled forlornly towards the castle. The wide bridge leading to the entrance was flanked by statues that stared down rather menacingly at them, as if to deter ancient invaders. Harry shuddered.

Just before the entrance, Bob gave them a description of the castle. 

“This structure was once the tallest building in Rome, and commissioned by Hadrian as a mausoleum for himself and his family. It was converted into a military fortress in 401 for the subsequent sacking of Rome. Legend has it that the Archangel Michael appeared at the top, sheathing his sword, to signify the end of the plague in 590. It is now a museum.”

Despite his fatigue and extreme hunger, Harry was intrigued. He followed the tour group into the castle-turned-museum, and this time he and Louis opted to stay with the group for the official tour. Belying the imposing exterior, inside the fortress was painted and engraved to rival some rooms in the Vatican Museum. The crowds weren’t as thick, as it was lunchtime. He was surprised, at the end of it, to find an hour had passed. Bob truly was gifted, Harry thought with a smile. Harry didn’t take as many photos here, mainly because he felt at death’s door with hunger. Louis appeared to be on the same page, because when the group reached the exit, he let out a huge sigh.

“If I don’t see a slice of pizza in the next five minutes, someone is going to die,” Louis vowed.

Harry nodded somberly. “I know. I don’t know how I’m going to survive any longer.”

“As we are near Trastevere,” Bob suggested, interrupting Harry’s morbid thoughts, “I thought we could take our lunch break here. Why don’t you spend the next few hours seeing the sights here and eating. We can reconvene around 4:30 to head to Campo di Fiori.”

Harry wanted to suggest they spend the next few hours sleeping instead, but no one asked him. So he and Louis stopped on the bridge spanning the Tiber and took stock of their options.

“Okay,” Louis said, pulling out his phone. “We can wander around until we find food, and hope to god it’s decent...or, we can google it.”

“Google,” Harry was quick to decide. “Please.”

“Let’s see...we’re where? Trastevere? Okay.”

While Louis scanned restaurant reviews, Harry sent a quick text to the group chat.

_ Just escaped a castle fortress. Looking for lunch now. _

“Pizza?” Louis asked.

“Yes, please,” Harry replied. “Did you find one?”

“Think so. Follow me.”

The walk to La Boccaccia wasn’t too long, and due to the late lunch hour, the restaurant wasn’t packed. A few small tables were scattered outside, and the interior was set up with a pizza buffet. Most importantly, though, it smelled delicious.

Harry and Louis were digging into authentic Roman pizza within minutes. They had each piled a variety of pizza on their plates, and took their time trying each one.

“Have we died and gone to heaven?” Harry asked dreamily, taking a healthy bite of a veggie pizza that smelled divine.

“Pizza heaven, yes,” Louis replied with a smile. “Good so far?”

“So good,” Harry moaned before taking another bite. “Do you think it’s because it’s really this good, or because we were just so hungry?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis concluded. “Best part of the day, right here.”

“Can we get gelato, too?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Sure. Let’s ask the staff what they recommend. We passed a couple places on our way here.”

After a generous lunch, Harry and Louis headed in the direction of Fior di Luna, on the recommendation of the restaurant staff. The gelateria was a small, unassuming place on a quiet street in Trastevere.

“I’m digging this neighborhood vibe,” Louis confessed, noting small storefronts along the way.

“Kind of nice pace after touring all morning, huh?” Harry asked.

“Definitely. Thanks to Bob for suggesting it.”

In the gelateria, Harry and Louis asked for suggestions from the young woman at the counter. She insisted that the chocolate hazelnut was fantastic, as well as the “Fred”--custard with cookies. In the end, they agreed to try both and weren’t disappointed.

Sitting on the curb down the block, they devoured their gelato. Harry snapped a photo of their half-eaten cups, already imagining which Instagram filter to use on it. Afterwards, the two wandered around the neighborhood, just exploring.

“We have an hour left. What does your book suggest next?” Louis asked.

Harry consulted the guidebook, scanning the section on Trastevere.

“The Jewish Ghetto, apparently,” Harry replied, pulling out the built-in map of the city.

“What does it say?” Louis asked, leaning closer to pore over the book.

Harry read: “Packed with monuments from every era of Roman history, the Jewish Ghetto has left its dark days behind and become a vibrant, rewarding place to explore. Tiber Island and the riverbank here offer rustic charm and some of the city’s most interesting, unsung sights.”

Louis pulled out his phone and did a quick Wikipedia search. “According to this, from 1555 to 1870, Jews were forced to live in this ghetto, often in terrible living conditions. The walls were torn down in 1888. Then, the Synagogue of Rome was built there.”

Harry looked up and frowned. “Jesus. It’s like a whole other side of Rome than we’ve seen.”

“Well,” Louis mused, scrolling down the page, “seems like it’s a--what did your book say? Vibrant?--place nowadays. Want to check it out?”

“Sure,” Harry agreed, slowly rising to his feet and stretching his sore back. “Let’s go.”

Together, Harry and Louis crossed the Tiber at Tiber Island and were greeted by the sight of the Theater of Marcellus. It only ranked two stars in Harry’s guidebook, but there was free admission.

Entering through the lower level of what Louis dubbed the “Wannabe Colosseum,” they found a large, open-air theater relatively crowd-free. Harry and Louis surveyed the view for a few minutes, eventually sitting down on a step in the theater ruins and consulting the guidebook.

“Says here,” Harry read with interest, “that the apartments on the upper level are still inhabited by modern princes and contessas.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Wouldn’t you love to tell everyone you lived above a Roman theater? Cool.”

Harry took a few pictures, but they soon stood and continued their trek. The synagogue was to their left, so they went to explore. They paid a small entrance fee, and then entered into the synagogue.

“It was built in the 1890s over land that was once the most squalid part of the Ghetto,” Harry read as they entered, “shortly after the decree that ended the Jewish segregation.”

Looking up, they saw the ceiling was ornately decorated with what appeared to be metalwork and frescoed palm trees. It seemed to glow in the light reflecting in the building, and Harry took a photo. There was also a museum with exhibits that depicted the persecution of the Jews in Rome in the 1500s up to the Nazi occupation of the 1940s.

Harry and Louis explored the exhibit and admired the illuminated parchments, marble pieces, and many pieces of silverwork. There were only a few other tourists there, and overall the atmosphere of the synagogue seemed peaceful. However, the exhibit served as a reminder of a dark period in the country’s history when an entire creed of people were enslaved and subjugated, while the rest of the city seemingly prospered.

Exiting the synagogue, Harry and Louis let out a collective sigh.

“Damn,” Louis murmured.

“Yeah,” Harry said faintly, tucking a few wayward curls back into his bun.

“It’s just crazy to think that something like this could happen again today. That there are people who would be all for it,” Louis reflected.

“Guess it makes you appreciate what you have,” Harry said contemplatively. “I’m glad we came here, though.”

They kept an eye on the time as they backtracked a little to reach the Mouth of Truth, which Harry remembered from  _ Roman Holiday.  _ The sun was hot when they finally reached it, and they were dismayed to find a long line waiting to see the artifact.

Harry sighed. “So much for that.”

Louis narrowed his eyes in thought. “What if we just walked up past the line and took a picture from the side?”

Harry shrugged. “Since we’re here, why not?”

Bypassing a long line of sweating, impatient tourists, Harry and Louis made their way to the front. There, they saw a large marble disc with a face carved in it. The eyes and mouth were both open. It was interesting, but puzzling.

“What is it for?” Louis asked, leaning closer to Harry. “What do you do with it?”

“Well,” Harry replied, “in the film, Gregory Peck sticks his hand in, and pretends it’s been bitten off. And Audrey Hepburn is shocked, until he reveals he was just kidding.”

“Oh,” Louis said, nodding. “Let’s get a photo then, and then I think we need to meet up with the group.”

Harry snapped a few photos of the marble face, and then grabbed Louis to take a selfie with the Mouth in the background. They both made funny faces in the photo, and stepped apart chuckling. Then, they turned to trace their way back to meet Bob and the Sunset Tours group.

*

“The name Campo de’ Fiori,” Bob said a few minutes later in front of the group, “actually dates back to the Middle Ages when the area was a meadow. Since then, it has become one of Rome’s most popular piazzas, including restaurants and an open-air market.”

The group was standing at an entrance to the piazza, thankfully in the shade, as it was now the hottest part of the afternoon. Harry was scanning his guidebook and found that the piazza had three stars.

“It says here,” he whispered to Louis as Bob continued to talk, “that the area is the best place in the  _ centro storico _ to see Roman daily life at its most authentic.”

Louis nodded appreciatively. “Sounds good to me.”

Bob left them to their own devices for more flex time until dinner, so Harry and Louis began wandering. Perhaps revived by their slow-paced afternoon and great meal, Louis was fairly bouncing along. He pulled out his phone and began making another video.

“Welcome to day 2 of the Farewell Tour,” Louis grinned into the camera, wiggling his eyebrows. “Say hi to Harry, everyone.” Louis turned the camera to face Harry.

“Hi!” Harry greeted, waving. “Welcome back.”

“Harold, tell our viewers where we are,” Louis prompted.

“Um, we’re in Campo de’ Fiori,” Harry replied with a smile. “Check it out.”

Louis nodded and slowly aimed the camera for a panoramic shot of the piazza, where many people were milling about. It seemed to Harry that there was a fair amount of locals in addition to the camera-wielding tourists. It was the end of a market day, and vendors were sitting in the shade under wide, white umbrellas and chatting to one another while a few potential customers examined their wares. Some of the vendors were already packing up for the day.

“As you can see,” Louis was saying, still on his video tour, “we are surrounded by stalls of fresh produce. And beyond that, I spy a wine bar. Our night is looking up.”

“I’ll say,” Harry murmured, looking for a place to sit and rest his tired feet.

“Don’t mind Harry, who chose to wear his favorite old boots instead of practical shoes--”

“These are vintage, Lou! How many times do I have to--”

“ _ Anyway,”  _ Louis continued, rolling his eyes, “we’re hoping to just chill for a while before dinner. More from us later once we’ve had some adult beverages in us.”

“Ha ha,” Harry deadpanned as Louis ended the video and pocketed his phone. “What do you want to do?”

“I mean...same thing we do every day, Pinky,” Louis grinned mischievously.

“Try to take over the world?” Harry finished the quote with a smile.

“Exactly. Now, let’s go make some friends and practice our Italian.”

Somehow, they ended up doing just that. It started innocently enough, with Louis browsing the remaining produce stalls and occasionally waving to the vendors and saying “Ciao.” Harry followed a few steps behind, occasionally taking artsy photos of the rows of produce and the architecture. Before he knew it, he and Louis were in a deep conversation with a couple of locals who introduced themselves as Giulia and Antonio, a couple of new parents in their mid-twenties who luckily had a babysitter that night.

Antonio invited Harry and Louis to one of their favorite Irish pubs, oddly enough, and they took one more glance around at the remaining tour group members before following them down a side street.

“If you get us murdered,” Harry whispered into Louis’ ear as they walked along, “I’ll kill you.”

Louis chuckled and nodded. “Noted. Now, let’s have some fun.”

The Scholars Lounge was unassuming from the outside. A simple green sign over the door advertised the pub. Inside, a long bar was lined with stools, while tall, round tables dotted the expanse of floor. A football game was playing on several TVs scattered throughout the pub. But most importantly, Harry noted, there was a small stage in one corner for karaoke.

Louis took one glance at the karaoke stage and cracked up. “Must be fate, H.”

Antonio and Giulia offered to buy the first round, so a few moments later they all settled in with their first beer. While Louis struck up a conversation with Antonio about whatever football game was being played on the screens, Giulia turned to Harry.

“So, how long are you in Rome?” she asked, tucking a stray strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. She had faint circles under her eyes, likely from long nights with a newborn, and hazel eyes. Dressed casually in a flowy cream dress, she exuded Italian confidence.

“Just till tomorrow, actually,” Harry replied, sipping his beer. “We’re on a tour of different cities, and Rome was our first stop.”

“How do you like it so far?” she asked.

“It’s an amazing city,” Harry answered, gesturing to his camera. “We’ve taken a ton of photos.”

“Ooh, I need one of those!” Giulia cried. “We’ve just been taking photos of Stella with our phones.”

“Do you have any pictures with you?” Harry asked.

“How much time you got?” Giulia quipped, pulling out her phone. While Louis and Antonio talked football, Giulia shared photos of their newborn daughter.

“Look at her tiny hands!” Harry cooed, staring at a picture of the sleeping Stella. “And all that hair, wow! Mine was like that as a baby, and look how it turned out,” Harry joked, gesturing to his unruly curls.

Just then, Antonio said something funny, because Louis barked out a laugh. He threw his head back to laugh, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in delight. Harry had always been endeared by Louis’ laugh.

“So how long have you been together?” Giulia asked with a smile.

“Oh, um,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “We’re not, actually. It’s kind of a long story.”

“But you love him,” Giulia guessed with a soft smile. “It’s in your eyes when you look at him. Amore, my friend.”

Harry blushed under her scrutiny. “Did I mention it’s a long story?”

Giulia chuckled and patted Harry’s arm reassuringly. “Your secret is safe with me. Now, let’s have another drink and admire my baby photos.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

*

Harry didn’t know what happened. One minute, he and Louis were regaling their new friends with their misadventures so far in Rome, and the next, he was being urged onto the tiny stage. Apparently, it was karaoke night at the Scholars Lounge. And Harry had just enough tequila in his system to comply.

“I don’t know what to sing,” Harry protested, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

From their table, Louis, Antonio, and Giulia cheered enthusiastically. Before Harry knew what was happening, a waitress was pressing a mic into his hand and a song was playing. Harry was a little unsteady on his feet, veins pulsing with alcohol and exhaustion. He was just drunk enough to sing to a room full of strangers--and more importantly, to Louis.

Harry zeroed in on his table of friends as he gripped the mic in his hand. Since he was nervous, he had chosen a song he knew well. When it was time for him to sing, he just hoped he could remember all the words.

_ Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade _

_ There’s still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away _

Who didn’t love Whitney Houston? A few pub patrons recognized the song and clapped, and his table of friends hooted and cheered. Harry grinned and swayed unconsciously to the beat of the song. By the time the first chorus came, Harry was in his element.

_ Oh, I wanna dance with somebody _

_ I wanna feel the heat with somebody _

_ Oh, I wanna dance with somebody _

_ With somebody who loves me _

Harry scanned the crowd, where most of the patrons had tuned in to his performance. A couple in the crowd were taking photos and videos. Harry giggled. He liked to think that what he lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm. The next verse hit a little too close to home, though, and Harry had to pointedly look away from Louis for a minute.

_ I’ve been in love and lost my senses _

_ Spinning through the town _

_ Sooner or later, the fever ends _

_ And I wind up feeling down _

Unplanned, Harry’s eyes landed on Louis’ again, only to find him swaying along with a sparkle in his eye. Harry couldn’t look away.

_ I need a man who’ll take a chance _

_ On a love that burns hot enough to last _

_ So when the night falls _

_ My lonely heart calls _

Louis, Antonio, and Giulia were singing along by the time Harry hit the second chorus. Giulia was recording the performance like a proud mom at the school play. Not for the first time since arriving in Rome, Harry realized just how much he had needed a holiday. As he concluded the song, he met Louis’ eyes one more time and grinned. He was having the time of his life.

*

After ordering some pub food and more great conversation, Giulia’s babysitter called saying little Stella had a fever. Harry and Louis bid goodnight to the couple, and Giulia pulled Harry in for a hug.

“Fight for your love,” she murmured into his ear before pulling away. “Okay?”

Harry could feel Louis’ curious eyes on him as he nodded and replied, “Okay.”

It was just past ten, and Harry and Louis were drunk enough that they had forgotten the name of their hotel. It appeared that all the buses had stopped running for the evening, and they saw no taxis. So in their tipsy haze, walking seemed the best plan of action.

“We’ll just walk until we pass a cab,” Louis promised. “Can’t be long now.”

“Right, anytime now,” Harry slurred, stumbling over nothing on the sidewalk. Louis brought up a hand to steady Harry’s back.

“Okay, easy there, dancing queen,” Louis quipped.

Harry rolled his eyes. “It was Whitney, not ABBA, Lou!”

“How could I forget? I recorded the entire thing.”

“You didn’t!”

“Oh, I did. Thinking of sending it to your mum,” Louis laughed.

“Oh god. I’ll never hear the end of it,” Harry groaned. “Hey Lou?”

“Hmm?”

“How close do you think we are to the hotel?”

“Well,” Louis said, struggling to open Google Maps and walk at the same time, “I don’t know.”

Luck was on their side, because somewhere near Piazza Navona, they hailed a cab.

“Where to?” the driver asked in a bored tone. 

“Um,” Harry began, then giggled. “Our hotel is called...it’s the fancy one in the round piazza.”

“Yeah!” Louis exclaimed. “Bosc--something.”

“Boscolo Exedra?” the driver asked with raised brows.

“Yes!” Harry and Louis exclaimed in unison.

“Va bene,” the driver said, shaking his head. “Andiamo.”

A fifteen minute taxi ride would have been at least an hour on foot, and Harry relaxed back into the taxi seat with a relieved sigh as they arrived. They sorted out paying the driver, then tried to collect themselves to enter the hotel in a sober manner.

“Shit, do we have to pack? When are we leaving tomorrow?” Louis whispered as they crossed the lobby.

“Early,” Harry warned. “Like, 5:30.”

“Jesus,” Louis whistled. “These old people are going to kill us.”

Harry snickered as they arrived at the elevator. “Death in Italy? Dramatic.”

Upstairs in their room, Harry and Louis packed haphazardly and took turns with the shower. By the time they crawled into bed, it was nearing midnight. Harry fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and dreamed a dreamless, heavy sleep.

*

It was still dark when Harry’s alarm went off a few hours later. He groaned and swatted blindly in the direction of his phone. Across the pillow divide in the bed, Louis grumbled something incoherent in protest.

“Lou?”

“Huh?” Louis replied softly.

“We’ve got to get up, Lou. It’s time to go.”

“Where we going?” Louis asked around a huge yawn.

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face, blinking slowly. “Venice.”

“These old people, H. I’m telling you.”

Harry chuckled sleepily. “I know. Now let’s get moving.”

Harry clicked on the light on his bedside table, and eventually Louis stirred and did the same. Together, they dressed and double checked they had packed everything. Louis was standing by the door, arms crossed, when Harry finished packing.

“Toothbrush?” Louis asked with a knowing smile.

“Shit. Okay,” Harry muttered, striding into the bathroom to collect the one item he always seemed to forget. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Ready?” Louis replied.

“Ready. Let’s go to Venice,” Harry said with a tired smile.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

 

Venice

 

“Travel far enough, you meet yourself.”

\--David Mitchell

 

In a window seat on a high-speed train to Venice, Harry watched the Italian countryside fly by that morning. True to their nature, the other Sunset Tour members were early risers, and everyone made it to Termini station and onto the train in time. 

Sunlight streamed in through the slightly-smudged window, warming the left side of Harry’s face. He was halfway through the Avett Brothers’ album “I and Love and You,” and blinking sleepily in the morning sun. To his right, Louis was checking his work emails on his phone. Every once in a while, Louis would sigh and shake his head, as if the task was particularly tedious. Harry knew the feeling, of course; he had deliberately avoided checking his email since they embarked for Rome for this very reason.

Bob had informed the group that they would arrive in Venice in time for lunch and checking in at the hotel before they did any sightseeing. Harry secretly wondered if that included time for a nap.

The hangover hadn’t been too bad that morning, luckily, and when Harry received a text from Giulia in Rome, he still remembered who she was. Flashbacks of alcohol, laughter, and karaoke came to mind. Giulia’s text, while simple, had caused Harry to smile fondly.

_ Venice is a great place for amore. _

Harry had chuckled, and next to him, Louis perked up. “What is it?”

Harry shook his head and typed back a quick  _ Grazie xx _ to Giulia, then replied, “Nothing. That couple from the bar last night wish us a happy trip.”

Louis nodded and then went back to his phone, and Harry didn’t have to explain his drunk promise to Giulia to try to work things out with Louis. His mantra from before the trip was now conflicting with what his heart wanted.

_ Louis is not the one. But you can still be friends. _

It was too early to be thinking about this, Harry decided, and turned back to the window to watch the morning fly by.

*

Santa Lucia Station in Venice was located on the banks of the Grand Canal, and the view coming into the city had Harry on the edge of his seat.

The Hotel Ai Cavalieri di Venezia was their first stop after rounding up everyone and their luggage. After their accommodations in Rome, Harry and Louis shouldn’t have been awed by their new home for the next two days. Needless to say, they were.

For one thing, as Louis remarked when they stepped off the train, water was everywhere. Literally. They took a vaporetto, a public water bus, to their hotel in the city center. Harry had the urge to photograph everything he saw, but resisted. No need to look like an obvious tourist quite yet.

The lobby of the hotel seemed a bit dimmer than the Boscolo in Rome, but the lighting was still exquisite. Crystal and gold chandeliers adorned the ceiling and walls, which appeared to be antique plaster. While smaller in scale, this hotel felt immediately cozier to Harry.

Their footsteps echoed on the elaborate stone and marble chevron flooring as the group entered the lobby and made their way to reception. Harry and Louis waited their turn and exchanged impressed glances as they took in their surroundings.

Harry checked them in, and was handed a set of keys for their room. Together, he and Louis made their way up to their room. As they entered the room, the first word that came to Harry’s mind was  _ gold. _

The wallpaper, which was gold, featured an elaborate pattern that shone in the light from a series of gold wall sconces around the room. A soft-looking gold couch sat straight ahead, and beyond that, up three steps to a raised platform, was a king-sized bed with gold and white linens. Flanking both sides of the headboard were two large windows, currently covered with white curtains.

Harry dropped his bags on the velvety gold couch and slowly turned in a circle to survey his surroundings. Louis, who hadn’t said a word, walked up the stairs to the bed with a curious expression and opened the curtain at one of the windows.

“Um, Harry,” Louis said, and trailed off as he stared out the window.

Harry turned to face Louis, whose silhouette was framed by the light streaming in through the exposed window. Harry could see now that the window was actually a door. He watched in fascination as Louis slowly opened it and took a step outside.

It was a balcony.

Wordlessly, Louis turned back to face Harry with his jaw dropped. Harry walked up the steps then and opened the other door. It led to a Juliet balcony, as Louis had discovered, which overlooked the canal. It was like something off a postcard, Harry mused. He leaned over the edge, testing the railing, and then craned his neck to the right to see Louis staring back at him from the other balcony. Louis slowly shook his head in disbelief.

It was a warm day, so they mutually agreed to leave the balcony doors open for a while. Louis was the first to speak.

“H, we’re in Venice.”

Harry looked up from his phone, where he was taking photo after photo of the view. “Hmm? Yes, we are.”

“Yeah, but like.  _ Venice _ . For real,” Louis continued, clearly in awe.

Harry chuckled and nodded. “It’s true,” he confirmed. “You okay?”

Louis sat down on the edge of the enormous bed. “I think I need a cigarette. This is just a lot, you know?”

“Well,” Harry replied with a wry smile, “you can smoke on your balcony, there, and I’ll take photos on mine. Everybody wins.”

Louis pulled a cigarette and lighter out of seemingly nowhere and lit up, while Harry turned back to the incredible view. The warm morning breeze brushed his face, and he smiled. He loved the Venetian vibe already. Rome had been incredible, no question, but Venice just seemed...slower. In a good way.

As there was no ashtray on Louis’ balcony, he took one last slow drag of his cigarette and then tossed it over the railing.

“Litterbug,” Harry chided, but there was no heat behind it. He was feeling suddenly zen.

Louis didn’t reply, but stepped back into the hotel room, walked around the bed, and wordlessly pulled Harry into a hug.

Harry grinned through his initial surprise. “What’s that for?”

“You did this, H. You got us to Italy, of all places, and I just...thank you,” Louis mumbled into Harry’s shoulder.

Against his better judgment, Harry took a deep whiff of Louis in his arms. There was the lingering smoke, of course, but underneath that, Harry could smell the luxurious body wash from the hotel in Rome, clean detergent in Louis’ maroon sweater, and something inherently  _ Louis _ that he had desperately tried these past six months to forget.

“You’re welcome,” Harry murmured back. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Louis gave him one last squeeze, then stepped back with a soft smile. “Nowhere else I’d rather be. Now...lunch? Snack? Whatever Bob said about food?”

Harry’s smile widened. “Thought you’d never ask.”

*

At Ristorante Florida, not far from the hotel, Bob and the rest of the Sunset Tours group descended en masse for lunch. Harry made a beeline for Ruth and James, who were chatting with the hostess.

“May we join you?” Harry asked the older couple.

Ruth’s eyes lit up. “Harry! Why yes, of course. We were just asking the lovely hostess for recommendations here.”

“She said all of the seafood is delicious,” James added as Louis wandered over and said hello.

“Sounds good to me,” Louis shrugged good naturedly. “Shall we grab a table?”

Together, the four of them followed the friendly hostess out to the seating area facing the canal, under wide red umbrellas. While Louis and James pored over the menus, Harry chatted with Ruth.

“Did you enjoy your last night in Rome?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes! We found a wonderful restaurant in the city center and ended up staying two hours. Had a bit too much vino, if you ask me,” Ruth winked. “How was your evening?”

Louis tuned in to the conversation as Harry blushed slightly, remembering his karaoke night.

“Um,” Harry said slowly, “it was really nice. We met a cool couple from Rome who took us for drinks and dinner.”

“Harry in particular had a good time,” Louis chimed in with an innocent grin. “Didn’t you?”

Harry glared at Louis, then turned to face Ruth with an embarrassed smile. “We might have over-indulged a bit, too.”

“That reminds me, I was going to text your mum,” Louis said, his smile turning mischievous. “I think towards the end, you dedicated a song to her.”

“Oh god,” Harry groaned, dropping his face in his hands. “Which song?”

Louis laughed for a moment. “I believe it was ‘Sweet Caroline,’” he said, already scrolling through his phone for video evidence.

“Neil Diamond?” Harry mused. “I could’ve done worse.”

Ruth and James laughed as Louis kept scrolling through his phone.

“So!” Harry said, changing the subject. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Ruth scanned the outdoor patio for Bob, and found him milling around from table to table chatting with the tour group. “He’s probably on his way here to tell us,” she wagered.

Sure enough, a few moments later, Bob appeared at their table with a clipboard. He checked the time on his watch and then flashed the group a smile.

“Okay, fellow tourists,” Bob said in a now-familiar booming voice. “After lunch, our first stop in Venice will be the Piazza San Marco and the basilica. Should be a real treat.”

Ruth and James chatted amiably with Bob for a few moments, and Harry turned to look at Louis, concerned by how quiet he had been. Harry found Louis watching what appeared to be a video of Harry’s karaoke on his phone. Louis glanced up and smiled.

“Your mum loves the song, by the way,” Louis said with a smug grin. “She sends her love.”

“You didn’t,” Harry said, wide-eyed. “Louis.”

“Sorry, I had to, H. It was actually a sweet song.”

“Yes, and I was actually drunk off my ass.”

“Well, there’s that. But she thought it was cute,” Louis replied with a shrug.

“I can’t believe you texted my mum. I’m going to get you back,” Harry vowed.

“Mhm, alright. You do that,” Louis said breezily, not concerned in the least.

After Bob wandered off to another table, Harry realized he and Louis had been in their own little world, and Ruth and James were smiling amusedly at them.

“Um, sorry,” Harry said ruefully, “what did we miss?”

“Nothing, dear,” Ruth replied with a chuckle. “Food should be here soon.”

The waiter appeared with a carafe of wine, and James began pouring them glasses.

“White wine, hope that’s okay,” James said to Harry and Louis.

“That’s fine,” Harry replied with a smile. “It’s my favorite, to be honest.”

The wine was a perfect blend of sweet and tart that felt refreshing on a warm day. Louis took a sip of his and then nudged Harry.

“This is right up your alley, Harry.”

Harry smiled, and tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at the thought that Louis remembered his preference in wines. It didn’t mean anything, he reminded himself. Harry didn’t comment, but took another sip of his wine in the meantime. No need to say anything that would embarrass him further.

“So,” he said instead, looking at Ruth and James. “Have you been to Venice before?”

“We have, yes,” James replied with a fond smile. “It’s always provided lots of fond memories when we visit. Like Rome, there’s a lot to see, but there’s just something about Venice.”

“It’s so romantic,” Ruth added with a twinkle in her eye. “I can’t explain it, really.”

Louis smiled. “Sounds like we’re gonna have a good time, then.”

“Oh, you will!” Ruth assured him. “You just have to let Venice happen to you, if you know what I mean.”

“What’s that saying?” James asked with a grin. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? Well, whatever happens in Venice, stays in Venice.”

“James, you’re trying to get these boys in trouble!” Ruth reprimanded, but she giggled.

“Don’t worry,” Louis replied, raising his glass in salute. “We don’t need any help getting into trouble, do we H?”

Harry grinned back at Louis. “Unfortunately, no. We don’t.”

“We are actually really excited to see the city, though,” Louis added, bringing the topic back to focus. “We’ve heard great things.”

The group of four enjoyed the restaurant fare for the next hour, taking their time eating and talking. By the time Bob started rounding up the group, Harry felt rested enough to go exploring.

“Alright, Sunset Tours,” Bob said once they had made their way to the first destination, “Piazza San Marco dates back to the 12th century, and has been an iconic gathering place ever since. Napoleon famously dubbed it the ‘drawing room of Europe.’ Let’s take a few minutes to soak in the ambience of the piazza, and then we will proceed into St. Mark’s Basilica.”

Slowly, the tour group dispersed as everyone wandered the piazza. Harry still wasn’t sure what ambience was being reflected here, but he studied his surroundings.

The piazza seemed a bit more closed off than St. Peter’s in Rome. The basilica lay straight ahead, and the sides were lined with an arcade of sorts, with columns and arches all around. It was gorgeous in its architectural drama, and of course the piazza itself was full of other curious tourists.

To his right, Louis was reading what appeared to be the Wikipedia page for Piazza San Marco. Harry nudged his arm in question. Louis looked up with a smile.

“Yes, it’s Wikipedia. But unless you have a guidebook for Venice--”

“I left it in the room.”

“...then Wikipedia it is. Want to hear what it says?” Louis asked.

Harry nodded, and Louis began to read.

_ In 828, relics of St. Mark were stolen from Alexandria and brought to Venice; he was the missionary-apostle who was said to have converted their district. By 836, construction of the church was sufficiently advanced for the relics to be moved there. In 976, there was a rebellion against the Doge, and the church was set on fire...in 1063, a complete rebuilding commenced. _

Louis skimmed a bit and summarized: “Looks like over the next many years, it was transformed into its current state. Oh, and this is interesting...the piazza is apparently quick to flood.”

In unison, Harry and Louis studied the early afternoon skies, which were luckily cloudless. Louis eventually pocketed his phone and stood with hands on his hips.

“Kind of dry reading, that. I’m not feeling a spectacular vibe here. I think what we need is another installment of the video diary.”

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. “God help us. Okay. Where do you want to explore first?”

Louis scanned the busy piazza, then zeroed in on another tour group to their right. “Let’s go listen in.”

As they walked, Louis opened the video function on his phone and began speaking in a hushed voice.

“Welcome back to the Farewell Tour, everyone! I’m Louis, and to my left with the curls is Harry. Harry, say hi.”

“Hi!”

“We’re here in the main piazza of Venice, looking for some fun. So we’re crashing a tour group. Stay tuned!” Louis said, turning his camera to face the group of tourists listening to an energetic young guide.

“Allora, come vedi,” the tour guide was saying, and Harry looked at Louis with raised brows to find him nodding along intently as if he understood a word of Italian.

Harry elbowed Louis with a frown, and Louis turned to face him with an innocent smile.

“Si?”

“Louis,” Harry hissed, “we don’t speak Italian!”

Louis shrugged. “They don’t know that. Now shh, I’m trying to learn.”

Harry huffed out a sigh and tuned out the Italian tour guide as he watched Louis from the corner of his eye. His profile was beautiful, but this wasn’t news to Harry. Harry had memorized every curve and angle of Louis’ face long ago. He was schooled in Louis’ microexpressions and moods. He had kissed every inch of his handsome face. But sometimes, it struck Harry just how attractive Louis was.

Without turning away from the tour guide, Louis leaned an inch closer and whispered, “You’re staring.”

Harry blushed and scoffed. “Am not.”

“You are. What is it?”

“Well,  _ if  _ I was staring, which I’m not, it would be because we are part of an Italian tour and don’t speak the language.”

“Semantics. We understand plenty of Italian.  _ Ciao. Vino. Buongiorno. Grazie.” _

Harry rolled his eyes. “Let’s go find Bob and see about touring the basilica.”

“Yeah, okay. This guy is boring, anyway,” Louis shrugged, and then began walking away.

Harry took long strides to catch up with him, starting to sweat in the unshaded piazza. They soon caught up with Bob and some of the group members, who appeared to be chatting about the basilica. Harry tuned in in time to hear Bob say,

“It’s actually nicknamed the ‘church of gold.’”

Harry shared an impressed glance with Louis and flashed back to their opulent, gold hotel room. Maybe it was a Venetian theme. They only had to wait about five minutes for the rest of the group to wander over, fanning themselves in the afternoon heat.

While Bob restated his comment about the “church of gold” to the rest of the group, Harry turned to face the basilica’s impressive facade. While smaller than St. Peter’s, it was much more colorful. To Harry’s untrained eye, he guessed the theme was arches. The top of the basilica consisted of 5 spires, the largest of them being in the middle. Two smaller spires flanked each side. Each arched spire featured a scene from the Bible, he noted. Atop each spire was a statue of a figure from Christianity, or perhaps a saint. The center spire featured a golden winged lion, though the symbolism escaped him. Harry sorely missed his Venice guidebook.

As if reading his mind, Louis leaned closer and said, “Apparently the lion is a symbol of the saint of Venice. And the statues on top are the Warrior Saints. St. Mark is the one above the lion. And under the lion are four bronze horses.”

“What do they signify?” Harry asked, staring at the elaborate horses on the facade.

“Says here in Wikipedia that they’re actually replicas, and the originals are in the museum inside. Historically,” Louis continued, “they might have formed a team that carried an emperor.”

“Wow,” Harry mused, using his Canon to zoom in on the bronze horses for a closer look.

“Want to go inside? I think we’re getting left behind.”

“Sure,” Harry replied. “Let’s go.”

Entering into the basilica, Harry instantly understood why Bob called it the “church of gold.” Shimmering mosaics covered a multitude of surfaces, giving the interior of the church a golden glow. The tall ceiling was domed in several places, all of which featured windows that let in the streaming sunlight. It seemed everywhere Harry looked, there was elaborate decoration. He imagined it would take a week to properly see everything inside.

Nevertheless, with Louis and Wikipedia as guides, Harry learned a fair bit about the basilica. He snapped photos as they walked the floor plan, which was a Greek cross style. He had never seen such elaborate, huge mosaics before. Many of them depicted the miracles of Jesus and scenes from the Bible. Harry lost track of time as they wandered the church, taking in everything there was to see.

“Shit,” Louis hissed as they were doubling back under the largest dome. “Low battery.”

“Lou!” Harry whispered, looking around to make sure no one had heard. “We’re in a church. Can you refrain, please?”

Louis looked up with a frustrated expression. “Hmm? Oh! Shi--I mean, oops. I’m sorry.”

“I think God will forgive us this time,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. “Did you say your phone is dying?”

“Yeah,” Louis sighed. “Guess the tour is over. Unless we actually participate in the real tour.”

Together, they agreed to catch up with the Sunset Tours group and catch the end of Bob’s tour. They made it as he was describing one of the Biblical scenes.

“...here, we have a bust of Jesus surrounded by the Four Evangelists, or as we know them, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. The interior of the basilica, as we’ve discussed, has undergone many renovations over the years. It is estimated that only a third of the remaining mosaics are original to the church.”

Harry paid close attention as Bob concluded his tour and took questions from the group. When he led them back out into the crowded piazza, Harry turned to Louis with a rueful smile.

“Maybe we’ve been missing out. Bob seems to know his stuff.”

Louis chuckled and nodded. “Well, now we know.”

Bob then led the group across the piazza to the Doge’s Palace for a guided tour. This was lucky, as Harry had no idea what a doge actually was. And from the way Louis was paying close attention to Bob, he suspected Louis had no clue either.

“Since its inception,” Bob said by way of introduction, waving towards the palace facade, “the structure has undergone numerous renovations due to three large fires throughout history. Now, as you can see from the facade, the traditional gateway is topped with a figure of St. Mark, and above that, Justice with her sword and scales. We will be entering, however, from the waterfront side in the Porta del Frumento. Let’s go inside.”

The group walked around to the modern entrance of the palace and entered. Some of the tour group who knew what to expect already had their cameras ready, and Harry soon saw why. In addition to the breathtaking frescoes adorning the walls and ceiling of the main chamber, the ceiling was also designed with opulent gold frames for each scene in the fresco. The chamber was massive, and their steps echoed on the polished marble floors, which looked deep amber in the light streaming in through the windows. Overall, the vibe felt warm to Harry.

“Now,” Louis whispered from Harry’s side, “the million dollar question. What the hell is a doge?”

Harry snickered and clapped a hand over his mouth when some curious tourists turned to stare.

“I was hoping you knew,” Harry confessed amid giggles. “At this point, I’m afraid to ask.”

“You’re gonna have to google it, since my phone is dead. Just pretend you’re answering a text or something.”

Harry pulled out his phone surreptitiously and searched google. After a moment, he turned to Louis and whispered, “The doge is the supreme authority of the former Republic of Venice.”

“Oh, cool,” Louis replied with a nod. “Good to know.”

They tuned back in to Bob’s lecture, which mostly consisted of explanations of the various functions of the palace over the years, with an emphasis on government proceedings. Harry’s mind wandered from time to time, and he found himself wondering how frescoes were painted, especially on ceilings. He was about to give in and google that, too, when Louis poked him in the ribs with a bony elbow.

“Did you hear what he just said? We’re going to dinner next,” Louis said in a low voice.

“Cool! Where?” Harry asked, eyes trained back on Bob.

“Anywhere we want. Apparently there are a ton of restaurants nearby.”

“Should we wander until we find a good one, or ask someone?”

“Unless you want to test my McDonald’s finding skills again, I say we ask,” Louis said with a grin.

“Good plan.”

Harry approached Ruth and James, who were talking with another older couple from the tour group. Luckily, they knew a few restaurants in the area and gave Harry and Louis some suggestions.

Minutes later, Harry and Louis had navigated to Bar Mio. Ruth had explained it was a local treasure with great prices on drinks and sandwiches. From the front window, they could see a bar where a few people were enjoying drinks. Inside, they found a quaint local place buzzing with conversation and the whir of an espresso machine. If the appealing smell was anything to go by, Harry thought, they would be fine.

At the bar, Harry and Louis each ordered a glass of wine and a sandwich. After their large meal just hours earlier, it seemed sufficient. At a small table near the glass display case, they sat down to eat. 

After a few moments of companionable silence, Louis said, “Is it just me, or does this whole place just seem kind of...chill?”

“It totally does,” Harry replied thoughtfully. “I imagine there’s as much to see and do here as there was in Rome, but I don’t feel as rushed. If that makes sense.”

“It does,” Louis assured him, polishing off his glass of wine. “Venice. Who knew?”

“What else did Ruth recommend?” Harry asked.

“Um,” Louis mused, sipping his wine, “something about gelato on the bridge.”

“Which bridge?” Harry asked with a slight frown.

“Didn’t ask,” Louis replied with a smile. “Now what?”

In unison, then, they both replied, “Google it.”

Harry chuckled and pulled out his phone to search for “Bridge Venice.” The first result that popped up was the Bridge of Sighs.

“That sounds right,” Louis said, trying to recall his conversation with Ruth. “Where is it? What is it?”

As they finished their sandwiches and rose from the table, Harry read:

_ The view from the Bridge of Sighs was the last view of Venice that convicts saw before their imprisonment. The name, given by Lord Byron as a translation from the Italian “Ponte dei sospiri” in the 19th century, comes from the suggestion that prisoners would sigh at their final view of beautiful Venice through the window before being taken down to their cells. _

Harry looked up with a perplexed expression. “That’s depressing.”

“Sure is. Damn,” Louis replied. “Well, want to go explore? Bob said to meet back up at the Piazza San Marco at 7:00 to take the water taxi back to the hotel.”

“Let’s do it.”

*

Since it was connected to the Doge’s Palace, where they had just been, Harry and Louis had no trouble finding the bridge. When they came to the canal the bridge spanned, Louis frowned in confusion. 

“It’s smaller than I expected.”

“And completely enclosed,” Harry added, sounding disappointed. “Can we go inside?”

It turned out that their tickets to the Doge’s Palace included access to the bridge. After a short conversation with the personnel at the ticket counter, Harry and Louis were given instructions to get to the bridge. Five minutes later, they were standing with a small group of tourists inside the cramped bridge, peeking through the decorative cracks to see outside.

“Jesus,” Louis muttered as someone bumped into him, causing him in turn to bump Harry. “Is it just me, or is it claustrophobic in here?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a grimace, fighting for personal space. Can you see through the cracks?”

“Barely,” Louis admitted, standing on tiptoe.

“Come here, look through this one,” Harry offered.

Louis edged closer, and peered through for a glimpse of the canal outside. “I see it. Cool!”

“So imagine being a convict and glimpsing this before you head to a cell for the rest of your life,” Harry replied thoughtfully, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“Bridge of Sighs,” Louis mused. “I get it now.”

“Um, want to get out of here?” Harry asked as a tourist closed in on his personal space to peek outside.

“Please,” Louis replied with relief.

They traced their way through the crowd back the way they came, and eventually ended up back in the piazza.

Louis took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh evening air, and let it out slowly. “Thank god,” he sighed happily.

“Right?” Harry replied. “I barely even got a photo. That was rough.”

By the time the water taxi arrived back at the hotel, Harry and Louis were ready to drop. Harry had no idea how the other, older tour group members were still on their feet. They bade goodnight to the group, and headed wearily to their room. While Louis took first shower, Harry kicked off his boots and flopped down on the bed. He was scrolling through his photos for the day when Louis emerged in a cloud of citrus-smelling steam.

“Your turn,” Louis called, shaking out his wet hair.

Harry used all his remaining strength to sit up on the bed and trudge to the shower. Hot water and steam revived him some, while soothing his sore back and feet. It was only 9:30 when he made his way back to the bed, but it felt like midnight. He stood at the foot of the bed, where Louis was curled up under the covers in black-framed glasses, looking at his phone.

“I’m not feeling too great,” Harry confessed, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Maybe I’ll lay on the couch for a while?”

Louis looked up in concern. “Do you need anything? Want me to call down for something?”

“Nah,” Harry replied, waving off his concern. “I just don’t want to infect you in case I’m contagious. I’ll just lay down for a while and see how I feel.”

“If you’re sure,” Louis said slowly, frown etched across his face. “If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“I will,” Harry promised, and walked carefully down the three steps to the gold couch.

He intended to just rest for a few minutes, hoping once he was horizontal that his queasy stomach would feel better. The last thing he remembered before drifting off was the smell of Louis having one last cigarette on the balcony.

*

Harry was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, and yet, he couldn’t wake up. Harry would have laughed in different circumstances. He dreamed he had been strung up in an elaborate harness and interrogated on what he knew about  _ Stranger Things.  _ It was one of the last shows he had watched with Louis, and Harry had never had the heart to finish season one. Somehow, that turned into walking through a crowded piazza in an unfamiliar place, looking for Louis. He was missing, and panic began to rise in Harry’s throat when he saw the sheer size of the crowd around him. How would he ever find Louis? In the back of his mind, Harry knew the faceless people who interrogated him earlier were looking for him and Louis. So he had to hurry. But no matter how hard he looked, Harry couldn’t find a trace of Louis. It was as if he had disappeared in a puff of smoke. But he had to find Louis before his interrogators did. Now his mouth was bleeding. Harry didn’t know why. And still, no matter how loudly he called for Louis, he never appeared. Every time he thought he caught a glimpse of Louis’ hair or favorite sweater, it turned out to be another faceless stranger. Then, it got cold and dark. And Harry was falling. As he fell, he heard a familiar voice.

Falling.

_ Harry? _

Falling faster.

_ Harry, wake up. _

Falling.

_ Harry. _

Then, hands were gripping his shoulders, while a voice called his name. Harry awoke with a jolt and gasped.

“Harry?” It was Louis.

“L-Lou? What?” Harry said, panting for breath. “What happened?”

“Open your eyes, Harry.”

Harry wasn’t aware they had been closed. But he opened his eyes to find a very real, very concerned Louis hovering in his line of sight.

“Lou?”

“Shh, I’m here, babe. Breathe for me, okay?”

Harry took a deep breath, and let it out. He could feel Louis’ hands like a vise on his shoulders still. Harry took another deep breath, then let it out.

“Good,” Louis praised soothingly. His touch gentled on Harry’s shoulders, and slender hands stroked up and down Harry’s arms.

Harry couldn’t look away from Louis’ eyes. In the faint moonlight streaming in through the window curtains, they were midnight blue. As if sensing he was all that was holding Harry together, Louis’ gaze never wavered from Harry’s.

“There you go; just breathe,” Louis murmured. He brought one hand up to push a sweaty curl off Harry’s face, then carded through his hair. Harry felt his tense muscles relax a fraction.

“Lou, what happened?” Harry rasped, blinking slowly.

“You were having a bad dream,” Louis replied quietly. “I woke you up, I’m sorry.”

“No, thank you,” Harry said. “I’m glad you did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Louis asked, still stroking through Harry’s wayward curls.

“I...don’t know. I was looking for you...bleeding...couldn’t find you,” Harry murmured as if in a daze. He looked up to Louis with wide eyes. “I kept searching, and couldn’t find you!”

“I’m here, love. Okay? I’m right here,” Louis said.

Harry felt tears prick his eyes at Louis’ reassuring tone. “You’re okay.”

“I am. And so are you, babe. Keep breathing for me.”

Harry followed Louis’ instructions to breathe, blinking back tears. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Louis replied, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “I’m here.”

“Sorry,” Harry repeated, sinking back against the couch.

“Can you sit up?” Louis asked. “Drink some water for me?”

Harry nodded, eyes still wet. Slowly, he sat up on the couch and wiped his eyes. “Okay.”

“Stay here, okay? I’ll get you a drink.”

Harry quelled the panic at the thought of Louis leaving again, possibly forever. He waited until Louis returned with a cool bottle of water. Harry took a sip, and then another, surprised at how thirsty he was.

“Now, I’m not leaving again, okay?” Louis said, as if he could read Harry’s mind. “Let’s get into the bed. Can you do that for me?”

Harry nodded and stood unsteadily. Instantly, a hand was at his back to steady his steps. Slowly, Harry walked up the steps to the bed and sank down on the side.

“Good,” Louis said, sounding as relieved as Harry felt. “Get comfortable. Why don’t we just rest for a while.”

Harry felt another surge of tears at Louis’ kindness, but nodded. He leaned back against the soft pillows against the headboard and took another deep breath.

“There we go,” Louis said. Harry could feel the mattress dip under Louis’ weight as he crawled in on the other side of the bed.

Once comfortable, Louis scooted closer to Harry and draped an arm around his shoulder. Instinctively, Harry curled down against Louis’ side, focusing on his breathing. He rested his head on Louis shoulder, just breathing in and out.

“Good, love,” Louis soothed, relaxing against Harry. “Just rest, okay?”

“What time is it?” Harry asked, still feeling disoriented.

“Hmm,” Louis mused, reaching for his phone on the bed. “Half past three.”

“Oh god,” Harry lamented. “We have to be up in three hours.”

“No we don’t,” Louis said matter-of-factly.

“But Lou, the tour--”

“Nope. I don’t think so.”

“But--” Harry protested.

“No, Harry. We’re gonna sit the morning out. Stay right here in bed if necessary. But you’re in no shape to go sightseeing.”

Harry sighed, knowing Louis was right. Still, he felt awful for Louis sacrificing his morning in Venice.

“Sorry,” Harry repeated, losing track of how many times he had attempted to apologize.

“Hey, none of that,” Louis replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind a morning to sleep in, if I’m honest. Let’s just sleep until we wake up, and then we can discuss going out.”

Harry sagged against Louis’ side and nodded. “Okay. You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Louis said lightly. “Now, can you sleep?”

“I think so,” Harry replied.

“Good. Why don’t you lie down and try to rest, okay?” Louis asked.

Harry reluctantly disentangled himself from Louis and wiggled down further into the bed. He turned to face Louis. “Are you gonna sleep?”

“Yep,” Louis assured him. “Are you comfortable?”

Harry thought for a moment, then curled up wordlessly on his left side. A moment later, he felt Louis curl around his back. “Okay?” he asked, rubbing Harry’s arm.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered hoarsely. “Thanks.”

“Good. Now sleep, babe. I’m here.”

Harry intended to thank Louis again, but his eyelids were getting heavy. All he could do was nod and hope that he could get a little sleep. Harry drifted off wrapped up in Louis’ arms, and finally slept a dreamless sleep. 

*

The next time Harry woke, it was to the sound of a voice murmuring nearby and early morning light streaming in through the windows. He felt disoriented and groggy, and tried to focus on the voice speaking nearby. 

Louis.

“...just tell Bob, if you will, that we’ll check in later today. Yes, I’ll tell him. Thanks, love.”

Guilt flooded Harry as he remembered his 3 a.m. conversation with Louis about taking the morning off from touring. He had hoped Louis would change his mind and at least go alone, leaving Harry in the gold hotel room to rest. But it sounded like Louis had been serious.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good,” Louis’ voice called, coming closer.

“Hi,” Harry croaked, his throat scratchy from disuse.

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head,” Louis said with a small smile. “But you might as well relax. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. “Lou--”

“Harry, listen,” Louis said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Harry. “I know you’re exhausted.” Louis patted Harry’s shoulder reassuringly. “And I know you don’t want to miss anything, but we can catch up with the group later today.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, studying Louis’ eyes, which were a lighter blue in the morning light.

Louis didn’t hesitate. “I’m sure. Besides, wouldn’t you do the same for me, if it was the other way around?”

“Of course,” Harry murmured, frowning slightly. “I’d do anything to help.”

“And so would I, which is why we’re staying put.”

“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” Harry said resignedly.

“Nope,” Louis replied immediately. “So get comfortable. It’s only seven. I’ll call down for breakfast in an hour or so, and then we’ll eat in front of the TV like we’re at home instead of a fancy Venetian hotel room.”

Harry smiled in spite of his anxiety. “What’s on Italian television, Lou?”

“Who knows? Guess we’ll find out. Now, do you need anything?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Then you rest a while longer and I’ll plan out today’s adventures,” Louis announced.

Harry laughed tiredly. “Oh god. This should be fun.”

“You have no idea, H.”

*

Harry didn’t mean to doze off again, but he awoke to Louis shaking his shoulder and calling his name.

“Louis? What’s going on?” Harry asked, eyes still blissfully closed.

“Open your eyes and see,” Louis prompted playfully.

Harry slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Louis had pushed the white curtains open and cracked open the balcony doors, letting in fresh air and sunlight. The TV was on mute, playing a sports channel with subtitles. But most importantly…

“Breakfast?” Harry asked hopefully, sitting up in the bed.

“Yes. Check it out,” Louis said, gesturing to a cart by the door laden with plates and delicious-smelling food. “I didn’t know what you were in the mood for, so I got a little of everything.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he turned to face Louis. “Lou! You shouldn’t have. This is too much.”

“Nah,” Louis said dismissively, waving off Harry’s concern. “I’ve always wanted to order fancy room service. We’re living the dream, H.”

Harry stood and took a few tentative steps towards the food. “Smells wonderful.”

“We’ve got waffles, pastries, fruit, you name it,” Louis rattled off, sweeping a hand over the loaded cart. “Take your pick. Oh! And there’s coffee.”

“Coffee,” Harry said dreamily, causing Louis to laugh. “Thank you, Lou. It’s perfect.”

“Good. I’m glad you like it,” Louis replied. “Let’s eat, then we can get back to lazing around.”

To Harry’s horror and Louis’ delight, they ate on the luxurious bed. After a while, Harry gave up trying to pick up spilled crumbs and accepted defeat. He took a healthy bite out of a honey-glazed pastry and smiled.

“I love Venice,” Harry mused, chewing the delicious pastry.

“Same,” Louis replied, sipping a cup of tea. “They really go all out.”

“Sorry you had to miss this morning’s tour, though,” Harry said glumly.

“Hey, none of that,” Louis chided, elbowing Harry. “You know why I came on this trip with you, don’t you?”

Harry bit his lip. “Because I coerced you.”

“Ha ha. Guess again,” Louis replied.

“To see Europe?” Harry guessed.

“Well, sure, but more importantly,” Louis replied patiently, “to see you.”

“Me?” Harry asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Yes, you,” Louis laughed. “Why are you surprised?”

“But you...I thought...I’m confused.”

“I’ll admit, I was a bit annoyed when you called at 2 a.m. to interrupt my beauty sleep--”

“Sorry about that,” Harry winced.

“...but of course I wanted to see you. Was afraid you’d wake up that morning and regret calling me, actually.”

“I didn’t,” Harry replied. “I’m glad I was drunk, or I wouldn’t have had the nerve.”

“Guess we can thank Niall for taking you out then, and feeding you margaritas all night.”

Harry grinned at the memory. “Cheers to Niall.” He clinked his coffee mug against Louis’ teacup.

“Cheers,” Louis replied with a soft smile. “I hate it though, you know?”

“What’s that?”

“Not talking to you. I can’t tell you how many times I would think of something funny during the day and want to text you, or call you. Just to talk,” Louis confessed.

“God, me too,” Harry echoed. “I was just afraid to bother you.”

“Hmm,” Louis mused, and there was silence as he took another sip of tea. “Well. It looks like we’ve had some miscommunication.”

“We have?” Harry asked, studying Louis’ face.

“We have,” Louis confirmed. “We both wanted to talk to each other, but were scared to.”

“Kind of silly, I guess,” Harry reflected, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

“Yeah, it is.”

“So…” Harry said, then didn’t know what to say.

“So?” Louis asked, humor in his voice.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Lou. I missed talking to you.”

“I missed you, too,” Louis replied with a small smile. “Guess we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Where do we start?” Harry asked, biting his lip.

“Well,” Louis thought for a second, “let’s start with how you’ve been and go from there.”

“Deal.”

*

The morning flew by quicker than Harry could have imagined. After clearing their breakfast off the bed, Harry and Louis took turns showering and then lounged on the bed some more, watching an Italian news show neither could understand. Harry discovered in the course of their conversation that Louis had been staying with Liam, his childhood friend from Doncaster, in London. He had adopted a cat that hung around his balcony and named her Lady. And he was almost finished with all his university requirements to be a teacher. Harry absorbed each new fact or detail as if it was the last time they’d ever talk. Just in case.

In return, Harry told Louis about his continued stress at the graphic design company, and about his dream of starting his own business. He knew deep down that this was not the way a company should be run, and liked to daydream about being his own boss. He told Louis how his mum and sister were doing, and what he and Niall had been watching on Netflix recently.

By the time lunch rolled around and Harry’s stomach started growling, Louis deemed him to be in decent enough shape to go out. They dressed casually in jeans and tee shirts, then headed down to the lobby of the hotel. Harry thanked the concierge, a friendly young woman named Alessia, for their room service breakfast. Louis called to check in with the tour group, and found they had taken a lunch break after touring the Guggenheim.

“Lunchtime, Harry,” Louis said after hanging up the phone. “Follow me.”

Harry followed Louis out the door of the hotel warily. “We’re not going to McDonald’s again, are we?”

Louis laughed and glanced over his shoulder mischievously. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

*

Minutes later, they were standing in front of a restaurant, and Harry imagined he looked as perplexed as he felt.

“Um, Lou?” he asked, glancing at Louis from the corner of his eye.

“Hmm?” Louis asked, digging in his pocket for his wallet.

“You brought us to a place called Crazy Pizza.”

“Yes, I did. You can thank me later.”

“How do you know it’s so good?” Harry asked dubiously, peering inside the window.

“Great reviews online. C’mon, let’s check it out,” Louis replied, pulling Harry by the arm into the restaurant.

A friendly-looking man behind the counter welcomed them and then asked, “Dining in or to go?”

Harry was surprised when Louis opted for “to go.” Where were they going?

Louis perused a menu, and Harry eventually did the same. While the restaurant served multiple varieties of pizza, Harry didn’t want a repeat of last night’s stomachache. He settled for Pizza Margherita, which was simply cheese and tomatoes. Louis was feeling bolder, apparently, and tried a meat combination. They both grabbed bottled water from a display case, and the man, who introduced himself as the owner, rang up their meals.

“Great day to get lost in Venice,” he observed with a wink at Harry.

“Lost?” Harry asked, surprised yet again.

“Si, signore,” the owner replied. “Eat by the canal, and then go for a walk. See where you end up.”

“I think we will,” Louis answered with a mysterious smile. “Thank you. Grazie.”

Exiting the restaurant with individual pizza boxes, Harry and Louis scouted the area for a nice place to sit. They soon found a relatively quiet spot by the canal and made a picnic of their lunch. Harry’s pizza was delicious, as Louis predicted, and he planned on eating all of it.

Louis was enjoying his lunch as well, and eventually paused for a moment to say, “This was one of my better ideas.”

Harry grinned and nodded. “Okay, I’ll admit--you were right about the Crazy Pizza. Good choice.”

“Thanks,” Louis replied with a content smile. “It’s a great day for it.”

And it was. The early afternoon sun was filtering down between buildings, bathing everything in a soft glow. It was warm, but not too hot, since they were further north in Italy. Harry felt himself relax for the first time since he woke up from his nightmare the night before.

“So what did we miss this morning?” Harry asked, realizing he left his itinerary in their hotel room.

“The Guggenheim Museum,” Louis answered, polishing off his pizza. “Mm, delicious.”

“And this afternoon?”

“Let’s see,” Louis said, pulling up the photo he had taken of Harry’s itinerary earlier. “Well, believe it or not,” he said with a wide smile, “it’s flex time. God bless Bob.”

Harry sighed in relief. “No more battling tourists for personal space today.”

“And no more claustrophobic bridges.”

Harry raised his water bottle in salute, and Louis tapped his bottle against Harry’s. “Cheers to that.”

For a moment, the two just sat and watched the canal. Occasionally, small boats or gondolas would pass by, but otherwise, the spot they had claimed was quiet.

Louis was the first to break the silence. “I’ve never been on a gondola.”

Harry considered that. “Neither have I. Want to try it?”

“You don’t think it’s too cheesy?” Louis asked hesitantly.

“Of course it’s cheesy,” Harry replied with a smile. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Louis’ answering smile was radiant. “Okay, let’s do it.”

It didn’t take long after disposing of their rubbish to find a row of vacant gondolas nearby. When they approached, a man standing in one of the boats quickly pocketed the phone he had been looking at and beamed up at them.

“Two today?” he asked in accented English.

“Yes, please,” Harry replied. He pulled out his wallet to pay, and Louis stilled his hand.

“I’ve got it.”

“Lou, I don’t mind--”

“I know,” Louis said with a reassuring smile. “But let me, okay?”

Harry sighed and nodded, and Louis paid their fare.

“Welcome, amici,” the gondolier said enthusiastically. “All aboard. Where to?”

“Um,” Louis mused, “surprise us.”

The gondolier, who up close appeared to be in his fifties, smiled. “Va bene. Let’s go!”

Louis stepped gracefully into the boat, then turned and held a hand for Harry to hold. Harry blushed as he took Louis hand and carefully stepped into the boat, then let go. They settled into seats and then turned to watch the gondolier, who introduced himself as Dante, untie the boat and propel them out into the canal. He wore a simple black and white striped shirt and black trousers, and his face was weathered from long days under the Venetian sun. Crows feet appeared beside his dark eyes when he smiled at Harry and Louis.

“Okay, I am going to surprise you. Just sit back and relax, amici.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at Louis in question, and Louis smiled back. So Harry settled in on his seat and watched the city pass by as they navigated the canals. He had no idea how long a gondola ride lasted, so he was pleasantly surprised when, twenty minutes later, Dante stopped rowing for a moment and turned to them.

“Photo?” he asked, gesturing between Harry and Louis.

Harry nodded shyly and handed the man his digital camera. Dante appeared to be a pro at figuring out tourist cameras, because he was ready in no time. He motioned for Harry and Louis to scoot closer together, and then aimed the camera.

“Smile and say Venezia,” Dante instructed.

Harry and Louis dutifully repeated the word and smiled, and Dante snapped a few photos. He handed the camera back to Harry, who held it closer to Louis to show him the photos. Dante clearly had an eye for photography, because he had captured the two of them in front of a bright, red-brick building with an arched white door. The sunlight was mostly behind them in the photo, and they were both smiling. It was Harry’s Instagram dream come true.

“Grazie,” he said, flashing Dante a smile.

“Prego,” Dante answered with a small bow. Then he resumed rowing.

Five minutes later, he had navigated them down a series of narrow canals, and Harry was utterly lost. He glanced at Louis, and found him to be smiling serenely. The sunlight illuminated his handsome profile and glinted off his hair, making it appear a soft caramel color. Harry didn’t think before snapping a photo of Louis, hoping to preserve the moment.

“Did you get my good side?” Louis asked without turning his head.

Harry winced. “I tried. We’ll see how it turned out.”

“Ecco,” Dante eventually said, slowing to a stop. “Here we are, signori.”

Harry looked up and saw that they were in a totally unrecognizable neighborhood. There were a few cafes and what appeared to be houses, and absolutely no tourists in sight. 

“Um, where are we?” Harry asked, brows knit in confusion.

“We are...here,” Dante said, spreading his arms with a flourish. “Now, go explore.”

Harry shot Louis a concerned look, and Louis winked before turning to Dante. “Thank you so much. Have a lovely day!”

That’s how Harry and Louis ended up walking along a canal halfway across the city, totally lost.

*

“We are still in Venice, right?” Harry asked five minutes later, walking next to Louis. 

“Mm, who knows,” Louis mused teasingly. “We might turn the next corner and end up in Venice Beach instead.”

Harry groaned. “Oh god.”

“Hey, wasn’t that where  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ took place? Venice?”

“I think it’s Verona, actually,” Harry said uncertainly. “But there is a  _ Merchant of Venice, _ I think.”

“Huh. Never heard of it,” Louis shrugged nonchalantly.

“You know, we could just Google Map this and be done,” Harry suggested hopefully.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Louis asked, feigning confusion. “Thought it sounded like ‘Are we there yet?’ Besides, who needs Google Maps when we have these lovely gentlemen?”

They had turned a corner and wound up in front of a cafe that appeared deserted, save for the two men sitting outside playing chess. They appeared to be in their eighties, and almost certainly didn’t speak English.

“Um, Lou?”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Harry? Let’s just say Ciao and see what happens.”

And to Harry’s amazement, Louis did just that.

“Ciao, signori,” he boomed, and the two men stared at Louis in confusion. “Mi amici!”

The two men blinked slowly, looking from Louis to Harry.

“What did you just say?” Harry whispered, leaning closer to Louis. 

“No idea. Just go with it.”

Louis beamed eagerly at the men and gestured to their game board. “Chess?”

One of the men, wearing thick glasses and a golf hat like Niall’s, Harry noted, slowly nodded.

“Tu giochi?” he asked Louis.

To Harry’s astonishment, Louis nodded. “Si!”

There was a moment of silence as the two men seemed to be having a silent conversation, and then the man in the golf hat offered Louis and Harry a wide smile.

“Unisciti a noi,” he offered, waving a hand for them to sit down.

Louis grinned and wasted no time pulling up a chair from a vacant table nearby. He sat down and studied the chessboard. The other man, who was stout and wearing braces with his white tee shirt, gestured for Harry to sit down.

“Um, Lou,” Harry said, smiling nervously at the men, “since when do you play chess?”

“Liam’s teaching me,” he said, waving dismissively before looking back at the chessboard.

“Really?” Harry asked frowning.

“Well, Liam was going to teach me. Whatever, let’s see what happens.”

Louis looked up at the men, gestured to himself, and said, “Louis. England.”

The men smiled and nodded. The one in the golf hat introduced himself as Fabio, and the man wearing braces said his name was Marco. They all turned to Harry, who shrugged and said, “Harry. England.”

Louis rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a few Euro coins and set them on the table. “Care to make this interesting, gentlemen?”

Introductions aside, and with money on the table, Fabio turned his head and called over his shoulder, “Maria! Il vino!”

Louis’ eyes lit up and he grinned at Harry. “Si! Vino!”

An older woman with dark hair and a red apron appeared in the doorway. She assessed the scene in front of her, rolled her eyes, and then went back inside the cafe. Moments later, she reemerged with a carafe of wine and some small wine glasses.

While Marco poured them each a glass of red wine, Louis pushed a Euro across the table towards Fabio. “Are you feeling lucky?” he asked. 

Fabio blinked in confusion, and Harry hastily pulled out his phone for Google translation.

“Ti senti fortunato?” Harry translated for Louis. Fabio’s bushy white eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and then he guffawed a loud laugh. He elbowed Marco, then pointed at Louis.

“Campione de scacchi!” he joked, chuckling at Louis. Then, in broken English, for Louis’ benefit, he added, “You champion?”

“Si!” Louis exclaimed, raising his glass in salute.

“Saluti!” Marco and Fabio said in unison, and Harry raised his glass in cheers as well.

The next hour passed with Louis making more and more blatantly illegal chess moves, and losing his Euros to the older men. Whenever Marco or Fabio reached check or checkmate, they pointed for Louis and Harry to drink. Oddly enough, Maria in the cafe kept refilling the carafe of wine until Harry was pleasantly tipsy and Louis was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes.

Every once in a while, Louis would resume his trash talking, and Harry would translate from his phone. By the time Marco reached checkmate for the third time, all four of them were drunk and laughing. Marco pointed for Harry and Louis to drink, having lost the game yet again, and Louis cried, “Saluti!” and clicked his glass against Harry’s.

“Saluti!” Harry echoed.

“Campione del mondo!” Marco crowed, waving his hands, and everyone applauded him.

The sun was setting, and once the men packed up their chessboard, Maria appeared again with some fresh bread and what appeared to be homemade pasta. Despite the language barrier, Fabio and Marco insisted they stay and eat. So Harry and Louis exchanged shrugs and allowed Maria to bring them plates of pasta.

“Mangia bene,” Fabio said, gesturing with his fork. “Eat...well.”

Louis cheered at his attempt in English and raised his glass in cheers. The four of them ate at the tiny cafe table, occasionally chatting in one another’s language to Fabio and Marco’s amusement. At one point in the meal, Harry took a photo of Louis with the older men, all raising their wine glasses in salute. Maria once again materialized out of nowhere and offered to take a photo so Harry could be included. Harry handed over his camera, showed her the shutter button, and let her take a few photos.

Harry had lost track of time when Maria collected their plates and glasses and shooed them away. Louis and Harry shook hands with the chess players, and were bade goodnight with a friendly, “Buona notte, amici!”

Harry shook his head in amusement as they walked away in no particular direction. “I can’t believe you claimed to be a chess champion.”

Louis threw his head back and laughed. “I think they caught on. They wouldn’t let me move the queen around the board.”

“Lou, you don’t move the queen much. Even I know that,” Harry giggled, wobbling a little on the cobblestone street. Louis brought an arm up around Harry’s waist to steady him.

“Ah well, live and learn,” Louis said breezily. “How fun was that, though?”

“So fun,” Harry agreed, leaning some of his weight on Louis. “And that pasta? Wow.”

“Right? God bless Maria,” Louis sighed happily. “Shit, that was some strong wine.”

Harry giggled again, trying to take more careful steps as they walked along. “Where are we, by the way?”

Louis echoed his laugh. “Fuck if I know. Google it, love.”

Harry tried to ignore the “love” in his drunken state and pulled out his phone. He squinted down at the screen and tapped Google Maps, eventually finding their location on a map of Venice.

“Oh my god, Lou,” Harry said, deadly serious. “Look at this.”

“What is it?” Louis asked, leaning closer still to stare at the phone.

“We’re five minutes from the hotel.”

Louis looked up at Harry in surprise, then promptly cracked up. He laughed so hard, he had to stop in his tracks and brace his hands on his knees. Every time he tried to contain his laughter, he would glance at Harry’s annoyed face and start laughing all over again.

“Lou. It’s not funny.”

“Ha! C’mon, Harry, it’s a little funny.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t smile, H. Don’t do it,” Louis said, straightening up and poking Harry in his ticklish ribs.

“Stop it, Lou,” Harry said, but he couldn’t stop his smile from spreading.

“Ah ah, no smiling now! This is a smile-free zone.”

Harry grinned, then chuckled a little. He batted away Louis’ tickling hands. “Louis!”

Louis dissolved into giggles, finally wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh my god.”

“This whole time, Lou! We were minutes away from the hotel?!” Harry exclaimed. Harry went on the defensive, then, tickling Louis back. Louis shrieked and pulled away, almost falling into the canal. He caught himself, then laughed even harder. All Harry could do was laugh, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. 

Louis took a deep breath, trying to contain his laughter. “Oh, wow. That’s hilarious.”

“Not as hilarious as you playing chess,” Harry countered with a grin. “How much money did you lose to them, anyway?”

“Like, five Euro,” Louis replied, his laughter dying down to a few soft giggles. “So worth it, though. Did you hear Marco?”

“Campione del mondo!” Harry and Louis cried in unison, waving their arms like Marco had. That set them into another laughing fit, and by the time they rounded the next corner and saw the hotel, all Harry could do was shake his head fondly.

“So much fun,” he said, bumping into Louis’ side.

“Wasn’t it?” Louis asked, smiling wide. “And here we are, back in the same day.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile as he opened the hotel door for Louis. “Alright, come on, then, chess champion. Bedtime.”

“This was a great day,” Louis sighed, bumping into Harry as they walked.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much fun did you have?” Harry asked.

Louis flashed Harry a smile, his eyes bright. “Eleven.”

*

Dimly, Harry registered that it was nearly midnight when he plugged in his phone and crawled into the fancy gold bed in their hotel room. But he couldn’t find it in him to care when he had had so much fun. 

“Campione del mondo,” Harry mumbled into the pillow.

Louis snorted in bed next to him. “Good times,” he slurred sleepily. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

Harry pursed his lips in thought. “Taking a train again. Cologne, I think.”

“Hmm,” Louis hummed. “Sounds like an adventure. I’m in.”

Harry intended to reply, “me too,” but he was already drifting off to sleep.

*

Needless to say, the hangover after Maria’s wine was stronger than anything they had encountered in Rome. At breakfast that morning, Harry was nursing a cup of cappuccino and Louis was wearing his sunglasses indoors. Every time someone spoke nearby, Louis winced. Harry would have laughed if his head wasn’t pounding just as bad.

“Shit, Venice. Who knew?” Louis mumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“Right? Maybe Cologne will be a little tamer.”

“God, I hope not,” Louis said, flashing Harry a guilty smile. “I’m having a blast.”

“Me too,” Harry replied, and found he absolutely meant it.

*


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

 

Cologne

 

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

\--Marcel Proust

 

When Harry was young, he would ride in the backseat of his mum’s old maroon saloon next to Gemma on road trips. Anne always called them adventures rather than trips, and that made everything seem more exciting. They would pass the time on the road playing the alphabet game, singing their favorite Disney songs, and drawing pictures of what they’d like to do once they reached their destination. Maybe that’s why Harry always felt a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of a long trip now that he was older. 

And a long trip it was proving to be, on a train from Venice to Cologne that morning.

“Sorry, but how many hours did you say?” Louis asked incredulously, standing at the station.

“Around fifteen,” Harry said with a bright smile.

“And you’re smiling about this?!”

“Well, yeah,” Harry replied, smile widening. “I love long trips.”

“H, what are we gonna do on a train for fifteen hours?” Louis asked, expression bleak. “I can’t be cooped up for that long in one place.”

“Aww, Lou,” Harry said reassuringly, “it’ll be fun. We can play games and chat with the tour group and nap.”

“Okay, but why aren’t we taking a plane?” Louis asked indignantly.

“I...don’t know,” Harry confessed. “Maybe Bob will explain?”

Bob tried.

“There’s nothing quite like seeing the countryside fly by from a train, folks. You’ll see,” he assured the group, of which not only Louis was grumbling. Apparently, the elderly didn’t like sitting in one place for fifteen hours either.

“Think about it, Harry,” Louis whispered into his ear as Bob continued to gush about train travel. “They’re in the ‘sunset’ of their lives; why would they want to spend it on a train all day and night?”

Harry hummed in consideration. “I kind of see your point. Aww, now I feel bad for them.”

“Feel bad for  _ us _ , Harry--because now we have to put up with a train full of grumpy senior citizens.”

“Nah,” Harry said with a wave of his hand. “They’ll fall asleep a couple hours in and then they won’t make a peep.”

“So what are we gonna do to pass the time?” Louis asked.

“Play cards? People watch? Sleep?” Harry suggested.

Louis shrugged, but eventually nodded. “Yeah, okay. I need to check my work emails anyway.”

“That’s the spirit,” Harry replied, patting Louis on the back. “It’ll be fun; you’ll see.”

*

By hour two, Harry was rethinking his words. He and Louis had spent most of that time catching up on emails and social media, and then posting some of their trip pictures so far. By hour four, Louis was twitching in his seat, restless, and it was irking Harry. By hour five, he suggested they go for a walk. Louis was relieved to get up from his seat and go explore the train for a while. It was fun while it lasted. But it only takes so long to walk the length of a train before you get bored. When hour six rolled around, Harry and Louis sighed and returned to their seats on the train. They settled in with music and headphones, intending to nap for a while. But Harry never quite went to sleep. He made a playlist called “Spring in Europe” and added some of the songs he loved. When darkness settled in, Louis mumbled something and sat up in his seat.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, relieved to have someone to talk to.

“I said, where are we? How much longer?” Louis asked, wiping his sleepy eyes.

“I’d say about six more hours,” Harry estimated, checking the time. “What do you want to do?”

Louis sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. “Cards?”

“Deal.”

By the time they rolled into Koln Hauptbahnhof, Harry and Louis had played every card game they knew, and a few they didn’t. If they were a bit slap-happy, Harry blamed it on the long ride and being in such close proximity to Louis for so many hours.

It was the middle of the night, and still the station was bustling with people. By the time the tour group had rounded up their personal belongings and found a relatively clear spot to stand away from the main traffic, exhaustion had set in. Harry felt as tired and travel-weary as his older tour counterparts looked. All he wanted was a bed and some peace and quiet for the next several hours.

Bob then delivered the best news they had heard all day (and night). He had arranged for a coach to take them to their hotel, so they didn’t have to walk several blocks in the middle of the night or negotiate for taxis. By the time they arrived at Hotel Santo, Harry could have cried of happiness--but he was too worn out.

The hotel was clean and modern, very different from their past hotels on the trip. While the hotels in Venice and Rome had been opulent and full of vintage charm, Hotel Santo was all clean lines, bright colors, and beautiful artwork and photography. He entered the hotel room with Louis to find a welcoming-looking fluffy white duvet, minimalist desk and chairs, and a large flat screen fixed to the opposite wall.

“Wow,” Louis said, setting down his bags and surveying the room.

“I know,” Harry yawned. “I didn’t realize how tired I was of chandeliers until I saw this.”

Louis laughed and kicked off his shoes before sinking down on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to sleep for the next 24 hours,” he said happily, feeling the soft bed.

“Sounds nice, but think of what we’d miss,” Harry replied, rummaging around in his bag for the trip itinerary.

“I swear to God, if he has us touring another cathedral before 8 am,” Louis warned, eyes closed, “I’ll start a riot.”

“How about 10 a.m.?” Harry asked, reading the schedule for tomorrow.

“Hmm,” Louis mused, “that’s better.”

Harry slipped off his boots and stretched until his back and neck popped. Then he flopped down face first next to Louis on the bed. “Maybe we should get undressed?”

“Maybe,” Louis replied sleepily, making no indication of ever moving again.

Harry used all his remaining energy to flip over and attempt to undress while laying down. He huffed a frustrated sigh as he peeled off his skinny jeans and sweater, tossing them over the side of the bed to deal with in a few hours. Then he crawled under the covers and fell asleep before he could even say goodnight.

*

The blaring of an alarm woke Harry hours later, when sunlight was streaming in through the curtains they had forgotten to close. Harry groaned pitifully and swatted at his phone to make it stop. Then he took stock of his situation.

Harry had kicked most of the covers off during his sleep, and they were tangled around his legs. He had fallen asleep in his boxer briefs and polka dot socks, and his hair was a mess. He turned to his right to see Louis curled up on his side facing Harry, fast asleep. Unlike Harry, Louis had swaddled himself in blankets, until they were up to his chin. In the morning light, Harry could see the stubble on Louis face and the sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks. He looked younger in sleep, like the weight of adulthood hadn’t burdened him yet. Harry fought the urge to take a picture.

“You’re staring,” Louis mumbled without opening his eyes.

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm, and his cheeks flushed deep pink. Before he could reply, Louis continued.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Um, no,” Harry admitted, totally embarrassed.

“Did you take a picture?” Louis asked, lips quirking into a smile, his eyes still closed.

“No!” Harry replied indignantly.

“But you were thinking about it,” Louis challenged, finally opening his eyes and yawning.

“Ha. You wish. Good morning,” Harry said, staring into the blue of Louis’ eyes.

Louis blinked slowly, squinting a little. “Morning.”

“Slept in your contacts, didn’t you?” Harry asked, and Louis nodded blearily.

“And all my clothes,” Louis added with an exhausted smile. “Oops.”

“We need a shower,” Harry muttered, trying to untangle his messy curls.

“Do we?” Louis asked amusedly, and Harry looked over to find him smiling mischievously.

“I mean! Um,” Harry stammered, “we need to take showers. Plural. Separately.”

Louis snickered and buried his face in his pillow. “Okay. You go first. Enjoy your separate singular shower. I’m just gonna lay here one more minute.”

“More like fifteen,” Harry said under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Harry lied.

“Mhm. I don’t hear the shower running yet. Just your mouth running.”

“Ha ha. I’m going, fine.”

Harry shook his head fondly, grabbed some clean clothes from his suitcase, and went to shower. Sure enough, when he emerged fresh and clean ten minutes later, Louis was still in bed.

“I’m awake,” Louis said without prompting. “Is it my turn?”

“Yep,” Harry said, combing through his wet hair. “Up you go.”

Louis sighed and sat up in the bed, sure enough completely clothed. He pulled the sweater and tee shirt over his head and tossed them on the bed, revealing an expanse of skin Harry hadn’t seen or touched in months. It was just a lot. Harry turned to give Louis some privacy, busying himself with closing the curtains, and heard the rustling of fabric as Louis pulled off his wrinkled jeans. He thought he was being smooth, but he heard Louis chuckle.

“You’re blushing,” Louis accused, before Harry even turned around.

“Am not,” Harry said, and it was a blatant lie.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Louis said teasingly.

“Weren’t you going to shower?” Harry asked a little grumpily. He could imagine Louis rolling his eyes at that. Sure enough, as he turned to face Louis with his arms crossed in irritation, Louis was rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” Louis said, balling up his socks and tossing them at Harry, who caught them neatly and threw them back at Louis’ retreating figure.

“Menace,” Harry sighed, shaking his head. He was just glad Louis had already entered the bathroom so he couldn’t see the fond look on his face. Louis was going to be the death of him.

*

Harry could honestly say he had never eaten breakfast in a German hotel before, so he was pleasantly surprised to find, first of all, coffee. In addition to the multiple types of pastry he saw, there was also fresh artisan bread and a row of stainless steel warmers containing fresh, hot food.

Louis began preparing a cup of tea, and Harry did the same with his coffee. The aroma when he poured some into a white mug was enough to make his mouth water and his tired body perk up.

With plates loaded down in breakfast food, Harry and Louis found two empty seats in the crowded dining room next to Ruth and James.

“Good morning, dears!” Ruth cried, raising her teacup in salute. “How did you sleep?”

Harry and Louis exchanged amused glances, then said in unison, “Great.”

“So did we,” Ruth replied. “I always sleep well when I travel.”

“So what’s on the schedule for today?” Louis asked, stirring his tea.

“Well,” James said, “I think the Cologne Cathedral is first.”

“Such a treat,” Ruth added. “Lovely Gothic architecture.”

“Sounds cool,” Harry said with a nod. He bit into a chocolate pastry and stifled a moan. “This is delicious.”

Louis glanced over in interest. Wordlessly, Harry held the pastry towards Louis so he could take a bite. Louis chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. “Wow. Yes, delicious.”

Ruth propped her chin on her palm and sighed, “Ah, young love.”

“Ruth, dear, you’re staring,” James reminded her gently. “Let them eat.”

“I am!” Ruth protested, then added, “They remind us of you and I when we were younger.”

Harry and Louis looked up obliviously and found Ruth staring with a fond expression.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, finishing the chocolate pastry and thinking about getting another.

“Nothing,” Ruth said, waving a hand dismissively. “You might want to get seconds, boys--it’s going to be a busy day.”

Harry and Louis shared a slightly panicked look and headed back to the buffet.

*

True to his itinerary, Bob was standing before the Sunset Tours group at the Cologne Cathedral at approximately 10 a.m. Despite the early hour, the area was flooded with other tourists, and their group had to huddle together or be carried along by the crowd.

Harry snapped a few photos of the cathedral’s facade, impressed by its sheer size. Two enormous spires seemed to scrape the low-hanging clouds in the sky. It was the tallest cathedral he had ever seen. 

Bob began lecturing about the history of the cathedral, and Harry made an effort to listen this time.

“Construction of the cathedral began in 1248, but stopped in 1473, meaning it was still unfinished,” Bob began. “It was not completed until 1880. Some consider it Germany’s most visited landmark of all, and it’s famous for housing the reliquary of the Three Kings who observed the birth of Christ.”

Harry and Louis exchanged impressed glances, and Harry subtly pulled out his Lonely Planet guide to Western Europe.

“Are you allowed to take library books out of the country?” Louis leaned in to whisper.

“Well, they didn’t specifically say not to,” Harry admitted sheepishly.

“You’re like a confusing mix of rebel and nerd,” Louis replied, patting Harry on the back.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You do that.”

Bob was explaining that they would actually circle the perimeter of the cathedral before entering, to get the full first impression. So Harry and Louis followed Bob and the tour group in a slow circle around the church. Occasionally, Bob would stop for pictures and to point out certain aspects to notice, such as the spires and flying buttresses. Harry actually found it difficult to capture the sheer size of the cathedral in a photo, and tried from several angles before sighing and giving up.

As Bob led the group to the entrance of the cathedral, Harry read the description from his travel book.

_ With its soaring twin spires, this is the Mt. Everest of cathedrals, jam packed with art and treasures. _

Louis peered over his shoulder to read a section as well. “Um, H, does that say 509 steps up the south tower to the base of the steeple?”

Harry read the part Louis was pointing to. “Oh, wow. Yes, it does.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, but already he was starting to smile.

“You want to climb all 509 steps for the perfect view from the top, and the answer is no,” Louis said, crossing his arms. “We’d have to be crazy to do that.”

“C’mon, Lou. How often are we in the largest church in Germany?” Harry pleaded. “It’ll be fun. A nice challenge for the morning.”

“Oh my god. Fine, but you owe me a really good lunch,” Louis warned.

“You won’t regret it, Lou--you’ll see.”

*

“Okay, I regret it,” Louis huffed fifteen minutes later.

They were following a group of tourists up the steps to the cathedral’s steeple, and the novelty had officially worn off. Harry secretly agreed, but was too stubborn to say it. His thigh and calf muscles were screaming for a break, and even at their slow pace, he was out of breath. Harry discreetly wiped some sweat off his brow and turned to Louis with a pained smile.

“It’s not that bad, Louis.”

“Not that bad?” Louis hissed. “My legs are about to give out. I’m never going to make it to the top. And don’t pretend like your back won’t be aching tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? More like right now,” Harry admitted with a sigh. “How much longer?”

Louis craned his neck to see around the crowd climbing the steps. “I can’t tell. Hundreds of steps to go, probably.”

“Look on the bright side,” Harry replied breathlessly. “We’ll have an awesome view, and then an even better lunch, as promised.”

“Fuck yes we will,” Louis said with determination.

A couple of curious tourists turned to stare at Louis, and Harry elbowed him in the ribs. “What have we said about cursing in a church, Lou?”

“Sorry,” Louis winced apologetically at the tourists, who rolled their eyes and turned around. Then he turned to face Harry. “I think the altitude is messing with my head. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Harry laughed and patted Louis on the shoulder. “Just keep telling yourself that. We’re almost there.”

Once they reached the top, Harry and Louis had to wait for their turn on an observation deck of sorts. Eventually, they filed into a space that was enclosed with open bars and fencing like a cage of sorts. From there, they could look out onto the city of Cologne.

“Damn--I mean, wow,” Louis muttered, taking in the sweeping views.

Beside him, Harry nodded with wide eyes. “Wow is right.”

Below them, the city of Cologne sprawled in all directions. A large bridge spanned a river which separated the cathedral from the rest of the city. Morning sunlight sparkled on the water and the buildings around them, and it was so picturesque Harry couldn’t stop taking photos.

“Stand over there,” he instructed Louis, pointing to an empty space where other tourists weren’t lining up for pictures.

Louis stood against the barrier that separated them from the outside, and smiled with a thumbs up. Harry snapped a photo, trying to get as much of the city as he could in the frame.

“Come here,” Louis said after Harry took the photo. Louis pulled out his phone, clicked on the camera, and pulled Harry in by the arm to take a selfie. “Say, ‘my legs are sore’ on 3!” he joked, and then counted to three. Harry and Louis smiled at the camera, and Louis took a few pictures just to make sure he got a good one.

They stepped apart a moment later and surveyed their surroundings. “I can’t believe we did this,” Louis admitted with an exhausted smile.

“Me neither,” Harry confessed. “But I’m glad we did.”

“You think going down 509 steps will be easier than up?” Louis asked.

Harry shrugged. “I really hope so. Let’s find out.”

*

Back on the ground floor of the cathedral, Harry stretched his back and popped his knees. His legs felt like jelly, and he knew his back would be aching soon. But the views from the tower had been worth it.

Bob had led the group somewhere out of sight, so Harry opened his tour book again.

“Says here we need to check out the Shrine of the Three Kings,” Harry informed Louis, who was scrolling through the pictures they had just taken.

Louis looked up and nodded. “Okay. Which way?”

Harry turned to scan the cathedral, looking for something that might hold relics. “Umm.”

“You don’t know either, do you?” Louis asked, amusement coloring his tone.

“Wait, hold on,” Harry said, reading further. “Behind the altar, according to this.”

“Hmm,” Louis mused, looking around. “Bet it’s in the middle.”

Together, Harry and Louis set out across the crowded cathedral in search of an altar. They soon found it, surrounded by an impressive number of tourists. They had to wait a couple minutes before they could move closer to the altar.

Harry nudged Louis and read from his book:

_ The shrine of the Three Kings behind the main altar is a richly bejewelled and gilded sarcophagus said to hold the remains of the kings who followed the star to the stable in Bethlehem where Jesus was born. The bones were spirited out of Milan in 1164 as spoils of war...and instantly turned Cologne into a major pilgrimage site. _

Harry stared intently at the reliquary, interest piqued by the thought of it actually containing the bones of kings.

Louis leaned closer in the reverent silence to whisper, “It looks like a big, gold box.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “Acute observation, there. Nice.”

Louis snickered and poked Harry in the ribs. “Wish we could see inside.”

“Didn’t you see enough bones in that underground crypt in Rome?”

“The Goonies one?” Louis whispered excitedly. “How could I forget.”

“I don’t think they’re gonna open it and let us see inside, Lou.”

“But then how do we know they’re really in there?”

“Guess you have to have faith,” Harry replied, feeling very wise.

Someone coughed behind them, reminding Harry that other, actual pilgrims were waiting their turn to see the reliquary. Harry guided Louis away, subtly snapping a photo of the exquisite box on their way to the next attraction.

They saw the Gero Crucifix next, which according to Harry’s guidebook was completed in 970 and “notable for its monumental size and an emotional intensity rarely achieved in those early medieval days.”

What stood out to Harry about the crucifix was the detailing--especially for medieval times. The body on the cross looked realistic, and behind it was a large, golden orb that Harry portrayed as the sun. He felt a little sacreligious taking a photo of the crucifix, and subtly looked to his left and right to make sure no one was watching. As they walked away, Harry felt Louis’ eyes on him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Louis said, shaking his head. “Was just thinking you’re really good at that.”

“Taking pictures?” Harry asked, lips curving up into a smile. “It’s kind of my job.”

“I know, I know,” Louis replied, waving his hand dismissively. “But, like. Taking photos while still remaining respectful. It’s nice.”

Harry felt oddly proud at Louis’ words, and didn’t know what to say. “Um, thanks,” he finally settled on, fighting the unusual urge to blush. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. So, where did our senior citizen friends get off to?”

Harry narrowed his eyes as he scanned the crowds for a familiar face. He finally spotted Bob standing next to the altar, gesturing to a painting. Harry led Louis over to the group. While Bob finished his speech about the painting, Louis nudged Harry and gestured to one man in the group who appeared to be asleep where he stood. Harry grinned and shook his head.

“Wonder if he climbed the 509 steps, too?” he asked.

Louis shrugged, a playful smile on his face. “Wake him up and ask him.”

Before Harry could reply, Bob concluded his lecture and declared the cathedral tour over. He suggested they next take a stroll over the bridge Harry glimpsed from the tower.

“What’s it called?” Louis asked, studying the map of Cologne in Harry’s guidebook.

“Um,” Harry said, trying to sound out the German word. “Hohenzollern.”

“O...kay,” Louis replied a little uncertainly. “Let’s go. I’m with you.”

As they exited the cathedral, Harry pulled out his phone and earbuds. “If you’re nice, I’ll share,” he told Louis.

“You mean, if I don’t make fun of your music?”

“Exactly. I’ve got some new stuff you might like.”

“We’ll see,” Louis replied dubiously, and followed Harry towards the bridge.

*

The Hohenzollern Bridge was slightly less crowded, as it was about lunchtime, so Harry and Louis enjoyed their stroll to it. Along a fence, they encountered hundreds and hundreds of padlocks and colorful handwritten notes.

“What’s this?” Louis asked, stepping closer to investigate. He reached for a bright pink note and scanned its contents. “German,” he reported. “Can’t read it.”

“What does it say?” Harry asked, pulling out his phone to translate.

“Liebe gewinnt immer,” Louis said, stumbling over the pronunciation.

Harry typed it into his phone, and then translated, “Love always wins.” He looked up at Louis with a smile. “Sweet.”

“Isn’t it?” Louis asked, gingerly folding the note back the way he found it. “And what about the padlocks?”

Harry resorted to google for this one. “Says here, that you and a loved one lock a lock to the fence and throw the key into the river. As long as the fence holds up, you’ll remain in love.”

Louis raised his eyebrows and scanned the fence, which spanned the length of the entire bridge. “It goes across the whole bridge, H. Look.”

Harry pocketed his phone and looked up to see Louis gesturing with arms wide. To a passerby, the gesture might have been mistaken for someone saying, “I love you this much.” Harry felt a pang in his heart at the thought of Louis making that gesture for him. But it wasn’t going to happen--not in Cologne, or Venice, or anywhere. Harry had to stick to his mantra.

_ Louis is not the one. But you can still be friends. _

It was getting harder and harder for Harry to stick to that mantra. And here, surrounded by gestures of love from total strangers, Harry felt empty in a way he hadn’t since the breakup. A memory came to him then, and it took him by surprise.

_ It was Christmas Eve. They hadn’t been dating long, but due to inclement weather in London, they were essentially snowed in. Harry had strung up white lights in his tiny flat, and Louis had put on an old Christmas CD. He was staring out the window as Nat King Cole sang “The Christmas Song.” Snow was falling down in huge flakes that appeared unending. It shouldn’t have been this cozy so early in their relationship, Harry admonished himself. It shouldn’t have felt like home. _

_ Louis turned from the window with his hands in his jogger pockets, shivering a little. “Do you believe in fate?” he asked. _

_ Harry looked up from the stove, where he was making a simple pasta dish with what remained of his rations. _

_ “I...do, I think,” Harry replied, stirring the angel hair pasta. “Do you?” _

_ Louis pondered for a moment. “I mean, I didn’t use to. But I don’t know...maybe it’s silly, but it kind of feels like fate that we’re together here now.” _

_ “Why’s that?” Harry asked breathlessly, forgetting the pasta entirely. _

_ “Because,” Louis replied softly, peeking up through his fringe to stare at Harry. “I kind of love you.” _

_ Harry’s jaw dropped, and the spoon in his hand clattered to the floor. _

_ “You--you do?” He asked, afraid he was dreaming. _

_ “I do,” Louis said with a small shrug, smiling fondly. _

_ “Lou--” Harry said, stepping closer. _

_ “And I know it’s probably too soon, and you don’t have to say it back, but I just thought it seemed like fate to tell you now. Is that completely stupid?” _

_ “No!” Harry replied, finding his voice. He strode across the cramped kitchen and braced his hands on Louis’ small shoulders. “It’s not stupid. It’s wonderful. Know why?” _

_ “Why?” Louis asked, voice barely a whisper as he stared into Harry’s eyes. _

_ “Because I love you, too,” Harry replied. He trailed his hands down Louis’ arms to link their fingers together. “You’re all I want.” _

_ “All you want for Christmas?” Louis asked playfully. _

_ “All I want forever,” Harry replied softly, squeezing Louis’ fingers. _

_ Louis squeezed back and pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. “Well, you’ve got me, then. But Harry?” he asked. _

_ “Hmm?” _

_ “What are you going to do when that pasta boils over...like it’s doing now?” _

_ Harry had gasped and ran back to the stove to assess the damage. In the end, the pasta was overcooked and the sauce a little too cold, but they ate snuggled up on the couch watching the snow swirl outside the window. And Harry’s heart had never felt so full. _

“Harry?” a voice asked, bringing Harry out of his memory.

Harry shook himself out of it to find Louis staring at him with a concerned expression.

“Okay? You kind of blanked out there for a minute,” Louis said.

Harry nodded his head and replied, “Sorry, I’m fine. Just spaced out there.”

“Are you okay?” Louis asked, walking closer to Harry. “Want to take a break?”

“No, no,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”

Louis studied Harry with a wary expression for a moment before speaking. “I was just asking how long people have been putting locks here. Did you find it on google?”

Harry pulled his phone back out, aware of Louis scrutinizing his face. He returned to the page he had just visited. “Looks like since 2008,” he replied after a minute. “Wow.”

“They did all this in just ten years?” Louis asked, clearly impressed.

“Yeah,” Harry said, pulling out his camera to snap some pictures of the locks on the fence. When he was finished, he turned to Louis. “What river is this, by the way?”

That led to another google search, as Harry and Louis stared out at the river below.

“The Rhine,” Harry finally announced.

“Did you want to take some more photos, or are you ready to move on? I think Bob wanted us to meet on the other side of the bridge.”

“No, I’m ready to go,” Harry replied, resolutely turning away from the sight of hundreds and hundreds of locks on the fence. He followed Louis across the bridge, and did not look back.

*

Bob and the rest of the Sunset Tour group were waiting at the other side of the bridge when Harry and Louis crossed it. Bob led them to a restaurant nearby that promised great German food and drinks, and honestly, Harry needed a break. 

Lommerzheim, the restaurant Bob chose, was still bustling with a late lunch crowd when the group entered. Bob, bless him, had made reservations, so after a short wait, the group was ushered to a few long tables together.

“What do we know about German food?” Louis murmured to Harry as he slid into the vacant seat to his left.

“Um,” Harry replied, “beer and meat and potatoes. That’s all I know.”

They perused a menu they found on the table, hoping to see something they recognized.

“Oh god, why didn’t I take German in school?” Louis lamented, scanning the menu hopelessly.

“I don’t know, why didn’t you?” Harry asked, looking over an impressive beer menu.

“I was too busy with drama class and football,” Louis said glumly, dropping the menu on the table. “Oh well. Maybe they have a special today.”

There was indeed a special, their waiter confirmed with a patient smile that only someone who regularly dealt with tourists could manage.

“Kotelett mit Pommes frites,” their waiter announced.

Harry and Louis exchanged confused glances and shrugged. “Why not?” Harry said under his breath. He nodded at the waiter, indicating he would try the special. Louis did the same.

When their beers came, Harry let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Truth be told, the mental image of all those love locks on the bridge was haunting him. Harry took a healthy sip of his beer, aware of Louis’ eyes on him.

“Thirsty?” Louis asked, amusement in his voice.

“You could say that,” Harry replied wearily.

“Hey,” Louis continued, patting Harry on the back. “I think we need a night out. What do you say?”

Harry raised his eyebrows and turned to face Louis. “And blow off the tour?”

“Nah, of course not,” Louis replied, leaning closer. “After we’re done for the day, let’s go out.”

“I don’t know,” Harry trailed off uncertainly.

“Listen, we’ll just go out for a beer and people watch. Very chill. Okay?”

“I...okay,” Harry relented, and Louis’ answering smile was radiant.

“Awesome! You’ll see, it’ll be fun.”

Harry took another long sip of beer in response and hoped for the best. By the time their food arrived, their drinks had already been refilled, and Harry was feeling refreshed and a little buzzed. He stared at the plate their waiter placed before him, and shrugged.

“It’s some kind of...fried...chop thing,” Louis said, poking his food dubiously with a fork. “And fries. Nice.”

“You try it, and tell me if it’s good,” Harry said, eyeing his food warily.

“Oh god. Okay. Hold on,” Louis replied, cutting a small bite of the meat. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled at Harry. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s good.”

That was enough for Harry, who giggled a little as he cut his meat. It was indeed good; perfectly fried, nicely seasoned, and tender, the meat tasted great.

“Just imagine it’s chicken,” Louis said, observing Harry eating.

“Chicken, french fries, and beer,” Harry mused. “Okay, Germany wins in my book.”

“Excuse me?” Louis asked, affronted. “Are you forgetting the chess and pasta in Venice?”

“Campione del mondo!” Harry grinned, raising his glass.

“Campione del mondo,” Louis replied, tapping his glass against Harry’s.

They both took a sip of beer and smiled.

“What about the fancy gelato in Rome?” Harry asked a moment later. “And the pizza?”

“Okay, okay, you have a point,” Louis admitted. “Each place has been great.”

“It really has,” Harry said, chewing a crisp french fry. “How are we ever going to go back home?”

“I don’t know,” Louis replied, shaking his head in wonder. “Back to Coco Pops. Jesus.”

“Absolutely not,” Harry countered. “I won’t allow it.”

His mind eased after strolling the bridge and memory lane, Harry enjoyed the rest of his meal. By the time the group finished eating and Bob was leading them to the next site on his list, Harry was feeling almost good as new. But he’d never look at a padlock the same way again.

*

“How about a nice stroll to help us digest?” Bob offered. They were approaching a long promenade of sorts that overlooked the river and the bridge they had just crossed. “We’re standing now on the Rheinboulevard, and as you can see it spans the width of the river. Let’s take a walk and enjoy the views, everyone. We can meet at the other end and discuss our next stop.”

Harry turned to Louis and shrugged. “Kind of a change of pace, huh? Remember our first day in Rome?”

“Oh god,” Louis recalled, running a hand through his hair at the memory. “How did our poor feet ever survive?”

“I don’t know,” Harry confessed as they began to walk. He pulled out his camera and snapped photos of the Rhine river and another view of the Hohenzollern bridge. Louis was in the frame when Harry angled the camera towards the buildings on the other side of the river. In a simple grey sweater, jeans, and aviators, Louis looked like he could belong anywhere they went.

“How do you do that?” Harry asked, lowering his camera.

“Hmm? Do what?” Louis asked.

“Just...blend in. Look natural,” Harry explained.

“I’m not doing anything!” Louis protested with a laugh. “I’m just walking.”

“So am I, but I don’t look like that,” Harry said with a frown.

“Well, some people are made to stand out,” Louis said with a shrug. “Guess you’re one of them.”

“Oh, great,” Harry lamented.

“Hey, it’s a good thing,” Louis assured Harry, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t slouch like that. You’re a sunflower on a cloudy day.”

“I’m...what?” Harry asked, jaw dropping.

Louis blushed a little, but shrugged. “You know, you’re just like. Meant to stand out. I don’t know.”

Harry grinned and nudged Louis’ arm. “Hey, that’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

“Well, don’t act so surprised,” Louis huffed. “I can be nice sometimes.”

Harry laughed. “I know! I know. It’s just nice to hear.”

“Whatever. Are we there yet?” Louis grumbled, cheeks still pink.

“We would be if you would hurry it up.”

“Excuse you, but Bob said to  _ stroll _ . I’m strolling.”

“All the old people have passed us,” Harry giggled. “But you do you.”

“You know I could beat you if I tried,” Louis warned. “Remember the Spanish Steps?”

“Just keep telling yourself that, Lou,” Harry said, still chuckling.

“You’re not clever; you know that, right?”

“Clever enough to do this!” Harry exclaimed, then took off running.

Louis snorted and began chasing him. “Hey, I didn’t say go! Cheater!”

Harry didn’t stop, knowing Louis would pass him eventually. He just ran at full speed, feeling the chill wind through his hair, and laughed. He ran until the end of the boulevard was in sight, and his feet ached, and Louis blew past him with a loud giggle. And with every step, his heart felt a little more light.

*

As it was late afternoon by the time a breathless Louis and Harry caught up with the rest of the tour group, Bob suggested a trip to the Koln Triangle.

“A sunset view for a sunset tour, if you will,” Bob chuckled, and the tour group laughed.

A few minutes later, after a scenic walk around Cologne, they were standing in front of a skyscraper.

“I don’t know what I was expecting for a triangle,” Louis whispered to Harry, “but this wasn’t it.”

Harry nodded as he took in the sheer size of the building, which was sleek and metallic looking, with late-afternoon sun glinting off its windows.

“Completed in 2006,” Bob explained, “the structure offers panoramic views of the city from the observation deck. Let’s go check it out!”

Harry and Louis filed in behind the rest of the tour group as they entered at the ground floor. Their admission to the observation deck was part of the trip fee, so the group ascended together easily.

The sun was setting behind the Cologne Cathedral they had toured earlier when the group made it to the top of the triangle. Harry reached for his camera as soon as he saw the sunset reflecting off the Rhine and other buildings across the river.

“Wow,” Louis breathed, taking in the view. “Can you believe we climbed to the top of that one?”

Harry followed Louis’ line of sight towards the cathedral. “My sore legs can believe it,” he quipped.

The tour group walked the full circle of the observation deck, glimpsing the entirety of Cologne from high above the city. Harry snapped photos as he went, eager to check out some of the places they were seeing at the moment. He was looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.

“Get my picture, H?” Louis asked, walking to the edge of the deck, where a railing stood between them and a sheer drop.

“Sure,” Harry replied. He waited for Louis to turn around and smile, then clicked a few photos of him. “You’re kind of backlit by the sunset; it looks cool,” Harry said.

“Come here, then. Let’s get one together,” Louis replied, gesturing Harry to come closer.

Harry shuffled over to Louis’ side and pulled out his phone to take a selfie. He crowded closer to Louis and lined up the shot. Sure enough, they were reduced to silhouettes with a gorgeous sunset behind them. Harry took a couple photos of the two of them, then scrolled through his photos. He texted one to Louis, and then said, “Send that one to your mum.”

“She’ll love it,” Louis said, staring at the photo Harry had just sent. “Thanks.”

“You know what this reminds me of?” Harry asked, staring off into the sunset.

“What?” Louis asked.

“ _ Sleepless in Seattle,”  _ Harry replied with a soft smile. “I love that movie.”

“Wait, you made me watch that once,” Louis said, the memory coming to him. “I remember because you cried the whole time--”

“Excuse you, I did not--”

“...and made me watch the ending twice because I wasn’t paying enough attention the first time.”

“And you’re a better person for it,” Harry said with a fond smile. “Wasn’t it amazing?”

“As far as rom coms go,” Louis mused, “not that bad.”

“Told you so.”

“Did you want to take more pictures?” Louis asked, leaning over the railing to look down.

Harry studied Louis for a moment, taking in the way the sunset glinted off his aviators and enhanced the caramel tones in his hair. Without asking, Harry simply raised his camera and snapped a shot of Louis’ profile in the afternoon sun.

“All done,” Harry replied with a smile. “Thank me later. That’ll make a great Instagram post.”

Louis scoffed. “No filter needed, right?”

“Exactly,” Harry answered. “What are you doing?”

Louis was scrolling through something on his phone intently. He looked up distractedly. “Hmm? Oh, I was just researching places to go out tonight.”

“Find anything good?” Harry asked.

“Maybe. We’ll see,” Louis said with an enigmatic smile. “I think I’ll keep it a surprise.”

“I like surprises,” Harry remarked.

“I remember,” Louis said with a fond smile.

Harry had no idea how much time had passed since they arrived on the observation deck. He had lost track of everything except the sunset reflecting off Louis’ sunglasses and his soft smile. And when Louis slowly pulled off his sunglasses and met Harry’s eyes, Harry forgot to breathe.

In the fading afternoon light, Louis’ blue eyes looked aquamarine. His long lashes framed his expressive eyes, and Harry wanted to take another photo. Louis was staring inquisitively.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, as if the two of them were in their own little fragile bubble.

“Nothing,” Harry murmured, shaking his head slowly. “Was just thinking.”

“Thinking what?” Louis asked.

“Have you ever wanted to take a picture and live in it forever?”

“A few times,” Louis mused. “But none come to mind except this,” he concluded, holding up his phone to show Harry the selfie they had taken minutes before.

Harry smiled, and Louis smiled, and for a moment, time was irrelevant. And something clicked into place then for Harry. Distantly, he tried to think of his original mantra, but it had vanished like a puff of smoke. Harry was reduced to one thought, standing there with Louis.

_ I want this every day. _

“Now what are you thinking?” Louis asked, still smiling.

Harry shook his head. “You first.”

“I was thinking I was right earlier. You’re exactly like a sunflower.”

_ And you’re the sun,  _ Harry thought to himself. But all he said was, “Then what does that make you?”

Louis’ smile widened, and his eyes shone in the fading light. “Lucky. Obviously.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, when a voice broke their little bubble.

“Oh, boys! There you are,” Ruth’s voice called as she approached. “It’s time to go.”

Louis was the first to look away, and he offered Ruth a polite smile. “Already? We just got here.”

“Silly boys,” she chuckled. “We’ve been here an hour. Ready to go?”

Louis glanced back at Harry when Ruth turned to walk away, and he winked. “You coming?”

Harry sighed and nodded, the moment clearly over. “Right behind you.”

Together, they descended from the observation deck in the dying light. Harry looked back up at the unusual skyscraper and shook his head fondly. It wasn’t  _ Sleepless in Seattle,  _ but it was something.

*

The tour group returned to Hotel Santo to freshen up and rest for dinner, and Harry and Louis dug through their suitcases for something to wear out.

“Lou, I didn’t really pack going out clothes,” Harry said, sifting through sweaters and tee shirts.

“Didn’t you bring one of those button shirts?” Louis asked, looking up from his phone where he was reading dance club reviews.

Harry pulled out a sheer black button up shirt and held it up. “Like this?”

“Yes!” Louis said with a nod. “Good choice. Black jeans, too?”

“Got it.”

Harry carried his change of clothes into the bathroom and began stripping off his outfit from the day. He craved a hot shower, but there wasn’t time. Besides, if Louis was serious, they would be dancing and sweating all night. Harry shrugged as he pulled on his shirt and did up most of the buttons. No need to scandalize the tour group, he reasoned to himself.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he found Louis had quickly changed into tight skinny jeans and a loose, soft-looking red sweater that showed a tiny peek of his script tattoo below his collarbones.

Harry stood with hands on hips for Louis to assess his outfit. “Okay?”

Louis looked up and smiled. “Looks nice, H. Ruth is going to take one look at you and swoon.”

“Not quite the demographic I’m hoping to impress, but I’ll take it,” Harry quipped. He slipped on his broken-in black boots and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Still not telling where we’re going after dinner?” Harry asked.

Louis laced up black Vans and then sank back onto the soft bed. “Nope. It’s a surprise, I told you.”

Harry sighed, but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Fair enough.”

“We’ll have fun, you’ll see,” Louis promised, patting Harry on the leg. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” Harry replied, standing up. “Where’s dinner?”

“I overheard Bob say we can eat wherever. Was going to ask Ruth and James for suggestions.”

“Good plan.”

In the lobby, several people from the tour group were milling around talking. Some had changed into dressy clothes and makeup, while some stayed casual. Ruth and James were chatting with Bob when Harry and Louis ambled over.

“Ah, there’s the youngest members of our tour group!” Bob called with a bright smile. “Having fun so far, gentlemen?”

“Yes, we are!” Harry replied, smiling politely. “Thank you.”

“Heading to dinner?” Bob asked.

Harry and Louis nodded, and Louis added, “Any suggestions?”

“Well,” Bob said, “you can’t go wrong with traditional kolsch beer and food!”

Ruth and James remembered liking a restaurant called Brucken that was nearby, so they decided to try it out. Luckily, it was less than half a mile away.

Inside Restaurant Brucken, Harry and Louis saw polished wood tables with sleek, black chairs. Colorful photos lined the walls, showcasing some of Cologne’s most famous landmarks and architecture. After a short five minute wait, during which they checked out a menu, a hostess led Harry and Louis to a table near the window.

Their waitress recommended Gaffel for kolsch beer, so Harry and Louis ordered that to start.

“I think we need to try the Schweinenbraten,” Louis announced, folding his menu.

“Really?” Harry asked, locating it on the menu. “Why?”

“Because it’s fun to say,” Louis admitted with a wry smile. “Why not? It’s some kind of meat.”

“I mean, we might as well,” Harry concluded with an easy shrug. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

Minds made up, they placed their orders with the waitress when she returned with their beers. Harry took a tentative sip of his beer, then raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Pretty good.”

Louis tried his beer, too. “Very good. I like this place.”

By the time their food came, Harry had worked up an appetite. The Schweinenbraten turned out to be great, just as Louis predicted.

“Better eat up,” Louis advised, gesturing to Harry’s plate, “or you’ll fall asleep after your first drink later.”

“Hey! That was one time. And I went for a long run that day; I was already tired.”

“Sure, sure,” Louis said, waving off Harry’s objection. “I’m just saying, get some solid calories in you. I know you prefer the mixed drinks anyway.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but finished his meal just the same. A glance at his phone showed it was nearly nine. “What time does this mystery club open?”

Louis checked his phone. “Ten. Thought we could walk around a bit, maybe see the city by night before we go to the club. What do you think?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Harry replied.

They squabbled over the bill for a minute, and Louis finally relented on the condition that he could buy their drinks later. That decided, they exited the restaurant and went exploring.

Historic old town Cologne was nearby, so Harry pulled it up on google maps and they began walking. There were still other tourists out at that late hour, surprisingly. Harry guessed the city had a vibrant nightlife.

Soon, they were walking cobbled streets and observing colorful buildings on all sides.

“These remind me of something,” Louis said, staring up at a row of brightly-painted houses and quaint architecture. “But I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Looks like a storybook to me,” Harry said, pausing to take a photo.

“Oh, I’ve got it!” Louis replied, snapping his fingers. “Gingerbread house.”

Harry laughed and patted Louis on the back. “I kind of see it.”

“The cafes are closed,” Harry noted as they rounded a corner. “Maybe we can come back tomorrow.”

“Speaking of tomorrow,” Louis replied, pulling out his phone, “we’re going to set an alarm so we don’t oversleep.”

“Good idea.”

“Isn’t it? Okay, I’m gonna say 8 a.m., and if Bob wants to meet any earlier than that, he’s on his own.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Harry said, pulling out his own phone to set an alarm.

Harry and Louis wandered the cobblestone streets for a while, just taking in the sights of historic Cologne. It was nearly ten when Harry checked his phone to find a text from Niall.

_ Where are you, mate? _

Harry stopped for a moment to reply  _ Cologne lol. _

_ What are you doing tonight?  _ Niall asked.

_ Going to a club with Louis haha. _

_ God help us,  _ Niall replied.

Harry rolled his eyes and saw Niall was typing again.

_ Keep your clothes on, H. _

Harry scoffed and pocketed his phone. Louis turned to watch with a curious smile.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, blushing a little. “Niall is trying to give me advice.”

“Good friend,” Louis replied with a grin. “So according to google maps, we should take the tram to the club.”

“The mystery club?” Harry asked, perking up.

“Indeed. We just need to find the tram now.”

They wandered for a few minutes, and by sheer luck found public transit. Louis paid their fare, and then they boarded the tram. When their stop came, Harry and Louis exited to find a small crowd of people all heading in the same direction.

“Follow the crowd?” Harry asked.

“Might as well,” Louis said, trying to walk and access google maps at the same time.

Louis swerved to the left, distracted, and Harry put a hand on his back to steady him as they walked straight ahead. The crowd they found themselves a part of was made up mostly of people their age, so Harry suspected they were going the right way.

Sure enough, a few minutes later they arrived at a club called Bootshaus, where a line was formed outside with people waiting to enter.

“Is this it?” Harry asked, and Louis looked up from his phone.

“Yep. Surprise!”

“What’s the surprise?” Harry wondered aloud.

“You’ll see,” Louis said with a wink.

Standing in the long line, Louis turned to Harry. He eyed the sheer shirt Harry had chosen, then tilted his head in consideration. Wordlessly, he reached out to unbutton two more buttons on Harry’s shirt, so his butterfly tattoo showed clearly now.

“There,” Louis said, smoothing down Harry’s shirt neatly. “That’s better.”

The simple touch felt electric through the thin fabric of Harry’s shirt, and his breath hitched. “Happy?” he asked.

Louis looked up through his lashes and smiled. “Very. Now, get out your ID. It’s almost our turn.”

Harry looked up and saw the line had indeed moved. At the door, a burly man dressed in black was checking IDs with a flashlight. Thank god, Harry thought. He needed a margarita like, yesterday. If Louis was going to keep casually touching him, Harry might combust.

The doorman checked Harry and Louis’ IDs and then let them inside, where already the sound of pounding music rattled Harry’s teeth. When Harry got his first proper glimpse of the club interior, he had to give Louis credit; he was impressed.

From the stage, a light show was underway while a band played. A DJ was set up behind the band. To Harry’s left, a long bar stood, crowded with other partiers. Louis placed a hand at Harry’s back and led him to the bar, where only a minute later, a bartender appeared. Louis ordered two tequila shots, a margarita for Harry, and an LIT for himself. Harry raised his brows but didn’t comment. So it was going to be one of those nights.

The shots arrived first, and Louis picked his up and held it up in salute. “To new places and good times,” he said.

Harry grinned, picked up his shot glass, and tapped it against Louis’. “New places and good times,” he echoed. Then they threw the first shot back.

Warmth bloomed in Harry’s stomach and chest from the straight tequila, and he found himself swaying to the beat of the music. By the time their other drinks arrived, Harry was giggling at something Louis was saying and leaning on the bar, watching people come and go.

“Alright, you lightweight,” Louis teased, patting Harry’s arm. “Drink up and then we’re going to dance.”

“Really?” Harry asked hopefully, sipping his margarita happily.

“Really. Did you know that DJs like Skrillex, Diplo, and Tiesto have played here?” Louis asked.

“Wow,” Harry replied. “Who’s playing tonight?”

“No idea. Let’s go find out,” Louis shouted to be heard above the noise that seemed to be intensifying.

Harry turned to look over his shoulder where the DJ was playing a remix of “No Tears Left to Cry.” All around him, people were dancing and singing along. It didn’t take much to persuade Harry to down his drink, grab Louis by the hand, and pull him out to the dance floor.

_ Ain’t got no tears left to cry,  _ Ariana sang as the crowd chimed in.  _ So I’m picking it up, picking it up. Loving and living and picking it up. _

Harry pulled Louis to a vacant spot on the dance floor and sang along. Lately, this song had been kind of an anthem for Harry, although he wasn’t going to tell Louis that. He had cried his tears over their breakup, and now he was ready to live life to the fullest.

It just so happened he was doing that with Louis.

He stepped closer to Louis, who was still holding his drink. Harry watched in fascination as Louis chugged the drink, sat it down on the nearest table, and returned to Harry with a wicked smile. He stepped right into Harry’s personal space, leaned in close to Harry’s ear, and murmured, “I know you love to dance, H. Don’t hold back.”

Louis’ lips brushed Harry’s ear as he pulled back, sending tiny shock waves down Harry’s spine. And something in Harry just kind of...snapped. He pulled Louis closer by the shoulders, then trailed his arms down to Louis’ waist. In the flashing lights, Louis’ eyes were electric as they met Harry’s. Louis was now close enough for Harry to feel his body heat, and Harry’s body relaxed even more.

Harry didn’t mean to end up grinding with Louis on a crowded dance floor in Germany. He also didn’t mean to take two more shots at the bar with Louis, either. But there they were. Harry couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he had watched Louis turn in the circle of his arms and press his back firmly to Harry’s front. He knew the music had changed to something slower and sultrier; knew the alcohol was buzzing in his veins and the flashing strobe lights accentuated each move Louis made in his arms.

He could hear a club version of “Sorry Not Sorry” as Louis pressed his perfect ass to Harry’s crotch.

_ Yeah I’m on fire and I know that it burns,  _ Demi and several hundred people around them sang.

Harry had forgotten how it felt when Louis rolled his hips back against him, but it came back quickly like muscle memory. Louis leaned his head back against Harry’s chest and pressed closer still, and Harry’s hands tightened on his waist.

By the time “Shape of You” began blasting through the speakers, Harry knew he was well and truly drunk. Every place he and Louis were touching burned like fire. He had danced with Louis a million times before, but something about the club or the holiday in general had Louis dancing with abandon. His hips moved in time with the beat, grinding back against Harry until Harry was breathless and hard in his tight jeans.

Just when Harry thought he couldn’t take any more, Louis spun in his arms, gripping his biceps a little unsteadily. Louis pressed his face right against Harry’s chest, where his shirt was gaping unbuttoned, and left a searing kiss against the bare skin.

Harry gasped and his fingers tightened on Louis’ waist until he suspected he was leaving bruises. Louis looked up then through his long lashes, blinking slowly and grinning, and trailed his fingers over the hot skin he had just kissed. Harry narrowed his eyes as he wondered if Louis was as drunk as he was right then. Probably.

Distracted by his hazy line of thought, Harry didn’t notice Louis lifting up on his toes to lean in close to his ear. “Kiss me for real, H,” he sighed, grazing his lips over Harry’s ear and down the side of his neck.

It took everything Harry had to wrap his fingers around Louis’ delicate wrist like a vise and lead him through the crowd, past the bar, and out the door of the club. The fresh, chilly air hit Harry’s face and revived him a little as he turned the corner and pressed Louis against the wall of the club.

“Naughty,” he reprimanded, squeezing Louis’ wrist for emphasis. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“You’re driving  _ me  _ crazy,” Louis groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. “Shirt practically unbuttoned all the way, where everyone can see...smelling the way you do...dancing like that. Jesus,” Louis slurred a little. “Killing me.”

Harry stepped closer, until Louis was pinned to the wall. “How drunk are you?” he asked, trailing his free hand through Louis’ sweat-spiked hair and down to his chest. “Will you remember this in the morning?”

“You know I will,” Louis replied breathlessly, curling his fingers around Harry’s on his chest.

“Good,” Harry murmured, pressing his lips to Louis’ ear. “Because I want you to remember this.” Harry trailed his lips from Louis’ ear to his cheek, dropping a hot kiss there.

“Do it, H,” Louis said, eyes fluttering closed. “I want it. Want  _ you.” _

“Open your eyes,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth.

Slowly, Louis opened his eyes, midnight blue boring into Harry’s.

“God, look at you,” Harry whispered. “I can’t...I need,” he said, pulling back a fraction.

“Please, Harry,” Louis whispered back, eyes never wavering from Harry’s.

“One kiss,” Harry replied, so close he was breathing Louis’ air.

“Then make it count,” Louis rasped, pulling Harry closer by his hair.

That did it for Harry. He surged forward, pressing his lips to Louis’ for the first time in months. The wet slide of their lips was not the gentle, sweet first kiss in a long time Harry was expecting when he dared to hope. It was hot and frantic and a little wild, and Harry knew it was what he needed. What he had needed since he laid eyes on Louis for the first time in half a year back in London, before the trip. What he had needed every day since.

Louis tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair and pulled sharply, making Harry gasp into the kiss. He met Louis’ lips again and again, and nearly cried when he felt the delicious heat of Louis’ tongue in his mouth. It all came back to Harry then, how Louis liked to be kissed, how he liked to be manhandled when they were alone, how he liked to be fucked. And it was a lot for Harry to process.

As if reading his mind, Louis’ mouth slowed and gentled on Harry’s. His grip relaxed in Harry’s hair until he was slowly stroking through the sweaty curls. He pressed soft little kisses against Harry’s bruised, wet lips and his flushed cheeks and forehead. Then Louis sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, spent. His eyes slipped closed, and his fingers trailed down through Harry’s hair, over his shoulder, and all the way to his hand. He laced his fingers with Harry’s and squeezed gently, trying to catch his breath.

“Harry, oh my god,” he moaned. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Harry said raggedly, resting his forehead on Louis’ sweaty shoulder. “I know.” A million questions swirled in Harry’s brain then. As the heady pleasure wore off, he was left slightly panicked and confused.

“Shh,” Louis said, without opening his eyes. He brushed his fingers across Harry’s forehead. “I can hear you thinking too hard.”

Harry smiled in spite of his inner turmoil. He nuzzled into the crook of Louis’ neck, breathing in a comforting mix of clean laundry, sweat, and Louis. “That escalated quickly,” he murmured against Louis’ warm skin.

Louis snickered and wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him flush against his body. He stroked up and down Harry’s broad back until Harry relaxed again.

“There we go,” Louis praised, holding one hand at the back of Harry’s head and thumbing over his curls. “Just breathe, love.”

Harry took a deep breath in, and let it out. And then another. And another. He felt his body melt against Louis’ as they stood against the club wall. Finally, Louis spoke again.

“Okay,” he said, bracing his hands on Harry’s shoulders to pull back a fraction. “Time for bed. Let’s call a cab.”

Harry took an unsteady step back. “Okay,” he said, not quite meeting Louis’ eyes.

“Oh, and Harry?” Louis asked, looking up from his phone where he was likely looking up a taxi service.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, feeling like his whole existence suddenly hinged on Louis’ words.

Louis tipped Harry’s chin up until he met his eyes. “Next time, just ask when you want to kiss me. And don’t keep me waiting.”

Harry grinned, and his heart felt light enough to fly away. “Noted.”

Louis went back to his phone, but wordlessly linked his fingers through Harry’s. As they waited for a cab, two words echoed in Harry’s mind again and again.

_ Next time. _

_ * _

The details of the cab ride back to Hotel Santo were a little fuzzy for Harry. He remembered sitting in the backseat, pressed close to Louis despite the ample room for them to spread out. He remembered Louis linking his arm through Harry’s and resting his head on his shoulder, and the butterflies in his stomach. He remembered stripping out of his clothes in the hotel room, in plain view of Louis for once, who was doing the same. And he remembered the tone of Louis’ voice when he pulled the duvet back and mumbled sleepily, “Come to bed, love.”

Harry awoke when it was still dark with a splitting headache. Louis was still sleeping, curled up at Harry’s side. If he wasn’t in such excruciating pain, he might have sank back down on the bed and gone back to sleep. But Harry sat up slowly, feeling the rush to his head, then stumbled over to his suitcase for the bottle of Panadol he carried everywhere. His vision was a little blurry, and Harry knew he was still drunk. When his fingers grasped the pill bottle, he sighed in relief. He shook out two--no, three--pills and then pulled a bottle of water out of Louis’ bag. Harry swallowed the pills and brought the bottle of water and the Panadol back to the bed.

Harry nudged Louis’ bare shoulder to wake him. He knew Louis would be annoyed, but better to be a little irritated now rather than wake up in a couple hours with a killer hangover.

“Lou,” Harry whispered, rubbing his shoulder. “Wake up.”

“No,” Louis groaned. “Still dark.”

“I know, babe, but you have to drink some water,” Harry replied, realizing the ‘babe’ had just slipped out. “And I’ve got Panadol.”

“Okay,” Louis sighed, and opened his eyes. He blinked and squinted in the still-dark room. He reached blindly for the bottle of water and sat up as slowly as Harry had. “Oh god.”

Harry watched sleepily as Louis chugged half the water, then took the pills in Harry’s outstretched hand. Once he had finished the water, Louis handed the bottle back to Harry and wiped his mouth.

“Okay, bed now,” Louis rasped.

Harry agreed, and slid back into the bed next to Louis. “Yes, bed. Night, Lou.”

“Night,” Louis mumbled, burrowing down into Harry’s side. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Harry smiled, his head still throbbing, and closed his eyes.

*

The next time Harry woke, it was to the feeling of gentle fingers in his tangled hair. He cracked one eye open to see the sun beginning to stream in through the window, and Louis beside him. He was staring at Harry with a soft smile.

“Morning,” Louis said quietly, carding his fingers through Harry’s curls.

“Morning,” Harry replied, blinking slowly.

“Alright?” Louis asked, scanning Harry’s face for any signs of a hangover.

“Um,” Harry said, taking stock of himself, and finding only a faint headache. “Yeah. You?”

“Good, thanks to you,” Louis said. “Your four a.m. Panadol seems to have worked.”

“Good,” Harry sighed, closing his eyes. For a moment, there was only silence as Louis patiently untangled a curl and smoothed it down. Harry was almost lulled back to sleep when Louis spoke again.

“On a scale of one to ten, how drunk did we get?”

Harry chuckled wearily, remembering the tequila. “Eleven.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Louis said.

Harry felt a little panicked at the thought of Louis remembering their kiss and instantly regretting it. He opened his eyes to see Louis’ face looked thoughtful, but not regretful.

“Forgot what a great kisser you are,” Louis mused, tugging gently on one curl.

Harry cracked a smile. “Really?”

“No,” Louis admitted, eyes glancing up to meet Harry’s with amusement. “How could I forget?”

Harry’s smile widened into a grin. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Louis snorted a laugh. “Wow, thanks.” His handsome face showed clear signs of exhaustion, but when he smiled again, his eyes crinkled up at the corners in a way Harry loved.

“Are you mad?” Harry asked, remembering bits and pieces of their heated kiss outside the club.

“At you?” Louis asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “For giving me exactly what I wanted? No, I’m not.”

“Well, I’m a little mad,” Harry confessed, reaching out to poke Louis in the ribs.

“Really? Why?” Louis asked.

“You got me hard in a strange club dancing to Demi Lovato,” Harry deadpanned.

“Ha! Sorry, not sorry,” Louis snickered, squirming away from Harry’s tickling fingers.

“You’re not cute,” Harry warned, tickling Louis in earnest now.

“Yes--ah! Yes I am,” Louis insisted, trying to dodge the tickling. “ _ You  _ think I’m cute.”

“You wish,” Harry said, rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t help but grin.

“Quit tickling me, my head’s starting to hurt,” Louis said amidst giggles.

“You have shots to thank for that,” Harry replied, ceasing his tickle attack.

“Shit, we did shots, didn’t we?” Louis said, realization dawning finally.

“We did,” Harry sighed, flopping back on the bed and closing his eyes. “Damn, Lou.”

“Was fun though,” Louis replied, a smile evident in his voice. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what are we doing this morning?”

Harry reached for his phone on the nightstand and pulled up the itinerary. “Hmm. Looks like...another church...a museum...and lots more.”

“It’s time to get up, isn’t it?” Louis asked resignedly.

“Yep.”

“Fine...but I call first shower.”

“Okay,” Harry said, dropping his phone to his chest and settling back in for a short nap. “I’ll be here.”

“You do that,” Louis said, patting Harry on the arm as he got up from the bed. Eyes still closed, Harry tracked the sound of Louis’ footsteps as he crossed the room to get clean clothes from his suitcase, and then entered the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click.

Pieces of the night came back to Harry as he lay there, waiting for his turn to shower. Dancing, drinking, more drinking...pulling Louis out of the club, and kissing him hard...and then Louis’ words, which set butterflies fluttering in Harry’s stomach all over again as he remembered.

_ Next time, just ask when you want to kiss me. _

Of course, Louis had been drunk off his ass then; they both had. But if there was even a glimmer of hope that Louis was serious, Harry was going to take the opportunity and run with it. This holiday had made him realize that life was short, and so, so precious. Maybe he and Louis had spent enough time apart.

*

Once showered, dressed, and fed courtesy of the hotel buffet, Harry’s hangover was almost cured. His head felt just the tiniest bit sore when he moved it, and he counted that as a win given all he had had to drink last night. He went back for seconds on coffee and browsed the itinerary while Louis chatted with Ruth and James.

It was going to be another action-packed day, he noted. A church, then choice of two museums, lunch, a WWII site, and botanical gardens at, yes, sunset. Bob was trying to kill them.

Louis ambled over with his second cup of tea, smiling broadly. “Look lively there, H. Big day ahead.”

Harry took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “Right? Bob is on a roll.”

“Got your travel book?” Louis asked.

Harry nodded. “Yep. Ready to go.”

“Where to first?” Louis replied.

Harry checked the itinerary. “Looks like Great St. Martin church.”

“Let’s do it.”

*

To Harry’s dismay, his travel book from the library didn’t detail St. Martin church. So he and Louis resigned themselves to listening to Bob’s lecture. The tour group was standing outside the church currently, enjoying the cool breeze and smaller crowd than they had seen at the Cologne Cathedral yesterday.

“The Great Saint Martin church,” Bob explained, “was built on the remnants of a Roman chapel. Later, it was used as a monastery. Although badly damaged in WWII, the church was restored in the 1980s and is now open for tourism. Let’s go check it out.”

Harry recognized the area surrounding the church as part of the historic old town he and Louis had wandered through last night after dinner. In the daylight, the colorful buildings that Louis had dubbed “gingerbread houses” stood out even more. Behind them, the tower of Saint Martin Church soared high above into the partly cloudy sky. 

Walking into the historic church, Harry immediately took a liking to the interior. Maybe it was the morning light streaming in through lofty stained glass windows, or the spaciousness of the church post-renovation. While not as ornate as the cathedral had been, Saint Martin was lovely in its archways, stonework, and simplicity. Harry took several photos as they walked along, listening to Bob point out some of the highlights.

“The storied history of the church can be categorized into fact and fiction, the latter of which has been thoroughly disproven by the existence of Benedictine documents from the time of construction. One thing is for certain, though; the restoration of the church after the aerial bombings of WWII was masterfully done.”

Harry and Louis looked around as they followed the tour group around the church. The more Harry saw, the more he enjoyed the architecture in its carefully-constructed simplicity. It reminded Harry of people he knew who made everything look seemingly easy, with little effort. Louis was one of those people, and so were Niall and Gemma. Harry turned to find Louis staring at him with an enigmatic smile.

“You like this one.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“I do,” Harry confessed. He snapped another photo of one of the arches overhead.

“Care to share with the class?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, biting his lip. “There’s just something beautiful in its clean lines and style. It’s grand, but not ornate. Feels welcoming.”

Louis smiled. “Sounds like you should be giving the tour now, instead of Bob. I think you’re onto something.”

“Nah, I’m no expert. I just know what I like,” Harry replied with a smile.

“Do you now?” Louis asked, smile widening.

Suddenly, the moment felt charged between them. Harry took a step closer without realizing it, staring into the vibrant blue of Louis’ eyes. His pulse sped up, and he found himself remembering Louis’ words from the club last night, about kissing him next time.

_ Don’t keep me waiting. _

Of course, they had been drunk at the time, but Louis tended to say what he meant. It was one of the things Harry loved about him.

Loved. Past tense, right?

Now, however, staring into Louis’ eyes in their own little world, the line between past and present blurred for Harry. He wondered if Louis ever felt the same way, as if caught between before and after their breakup. Like some kind of limbo. Harry wondered now, if he reached out and touched Louis, if it would disrupt some kind of space-time continuum.

It was too early for this.

“You’re doing it again,” Louis teased, breaking Harry out of his musing.

“Hmm?” Harry asked with a slight frown.

“You’re zoning out on me again. Where did you go this time?”

Harry blushed under Louis’ scrutiny. “I, um,” he began, then trailed off nervously.

Ruth saved the day. “Oh boys, there you are!” she called, approaching them. “It’s time to check out the museum. Are you ready?”

Harry broke eye contact with Louis to smile politely at Ruth. “Yes. Sorry, we’re coming.”

“You were just in your own little world there, weren’t you?” Ruth chuckled, patting Harry on the back. “Why, I remember back when James and I were young--”

But whatever Ruth went on to say, Harry didn’t hear. He was too distracted by the mischievous smile Louis gave him as she spoke on, oblivious. As Harry watched, transfixed, Louis mouthed a few words that would change the course of his day, and maybe his life.

_ You’re only young once. _

*

When given a chance to choose between the Ludwig art museum and a chocolate museum, the verdict for Harry and Louis was unanimous.

“The real question is,” Louis asked as they made a beeline for the Schokoladenmuseum, or chocolate museum, “why doesn’t every country have one?”

“My guidebook calls it a ‘high-tech temple to the art of chocolate making,’” Harry added excitedly.

“By the way, what exactly did we just pass up?” Louis added as an afterthought.

Harry read from his book then:  _ The Ludwig museum is a mecca of 20th century art...it presents a tantalising mix of works from all major phases. _

He looked at Louis and shrugged. “Tantalising? Maybe if we have time after this we can check it out?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The museum was located near the Cologne Cathedral, luckily. Louis insisted on paying their entrance fee, and then they were informed the next tour started in ten minutes.

“Know what this reminds me of?” Louis asked as he and Harry sat down on a nearby bench to wait for the tour.

“Oh god. Do I want to know?” Harry asked, skimming through his guidebook.

“You know  _ Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?” _

“Louis.”

“I’m just saying,” Louis said with a shrug. “If we misbehave, they may turn us into giant blueberries.”

“We do tend to misbehave,” Harry remarked offhand. “Well, there’s always the art museum if you’d rather do that--”

“No! Nope,” Louis assured him. “Chocolate factory is fine.”

And it was. The tour guide, once the group had assembled, led them on a journey through time. Starting with the cocoa bean in the Aztec empire, through colonialism and industrialization, to present day chocolate making, the tour was detailed.

“Damn,” Louis whispered towards the end of the tour. “All this chocolate talk is making me hungry.”

“Two words,” Harry whispered back as they rounded a corner. “Chocolate fountain.”

“Oh my god,” Louis breathed, stopping in his tracks. “Take a picture, H. Take ten.”

Harry chuckled and led a spellbound Louis towards a large gold sculpture crowning a chocolate fountain. A museum staff member dressed in a white apron was tending to the fountain, and beside her was a vast tray of items to dip in the chocolate.

Harry and Louis got in line to try some of the chocolate, and Harry obliged and took a photo of the fountain. A few minutes later, they were sampling the most delectable chocolate they had ever tried. Harry moaned at the rich taste, and Louis kicked him in the shin.

“That was pornographic, H. There are children here.”

“Sorry. It just tastes so good!” Harry exclaimed, licking the last trace of chocolate from his finger.

“You’re obscene. Get it together.”

“No one even noticed, except you. Quit watching me.”

“Well, it’s pretty hard not to when you’re having an orgasmic experience with chocolate,” Louis protested.

“Let’s get one of these,” Harry said, gesturing towards the towering fountain. “And every week we can dip cookies and fruit and things into it and moan all we want.”

“Tempting,” Louis conceded, eyeing the chocolate fountain again. “I know how you like to moan.”

“Now who’s being obscene?” Harry asked with a grin.

“You’re a tease,” Louis accused, frowning and crossing his arms.

“Never said I wasn’t,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Now. Can we taste some more?”

*

After finishing the chocolate tour, Harry and Louis checked the time and found it was already lunchtime.

“The tantalising art museum may have to wait until next time, H,” Louis winced. “But look on the bright side.”

“What’s that?”

“We just spent two hours talking about chocolate. Count this day a win.”

“And it’s only lunchtime,” Harry remarked, impressed. “Cologne is the best.”

“I hate to say it,” Louis said, pulling out his phone, “but all this sugar has made me crave like, a big, greasy burger.”

“Ooh, burger sounds awesome,” Harry sighed. “Are there any places nearby?”

“One,” Louis replied, consulting a travel site. “But it only has one review.”

“A good review?”

“I can’t tell...it’s in German,” Louis confessed. “Want to try it?”

“Sure,” Harry replied. “If it sucks, we can go somewhere else.”

That’s how, about ten minutes later, they were standing in front of Boss Burger, looking in the window.

“I mean...it looks normal,” Harry said, squinting to read the menu. “And I’m starving. Let’s try it.”

“Okay, why not,” Louis replied with a shrug. “Burger and beer, how could you go wrong?”

Inside the restaurant, Harry and Louis ordered their burgers and beers. The staff was friendly, and the place had a relaxed vibe. Their meals, which consisted of large hamburgers, also came with a generous helping of french fries. A little sugar-sick from all the chocolate that morning, Harry and Louis took enthusiastic bites of their food.

Harry chewed thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Not bad.”

“I mean, it’s hard to mess up a burger,” Louis mused. “It’s average, I’d say.”

“Better than that McDonald’s in Rome,” Harry replied with a grin.

“Excuse you, but that was the nicest McDonald’s we’ve ever seen.”

“Nice and greasy, more like,” Harry said.

“You’re not cute,” Louis replied, rolling his eyes. He took a sip of his beer.

“Yes I am,” Harry said with a smug smile. “Ruth thinks I’m cute.”

“Wow, H. Trying to charm everyone on the farewell tour? Can’t you let them age in peace?”

Harry laughed. “Nah. It’s good for them.”

Louis rolled his eyes again, and they finished their meal in companionable silence. Harry and Louis thanked the staff who had waited on them, then headed out into the early afternoon sunlight.

“Where to next?” Louis asked, slipping on his aviators.

Harry checked the itinerary. “Looks like the National Socialism Documentation Center.”

Louis raised his eyebrows in interest. “Where do we meet the group?”

“Hmm,” Harry said. “Maybe we should call someone.”

“I have Ruth’s number,” Louis replied as he pulled out his phone. “Let me ask her.”

“You exchanged numbers? Now who’s charming the senior citizens?” Harry exclaimed.

“Ha ha. Hang on, it’s ringing.”

While Louis chatted with Ruth about their next destination, Harry texted Niall.

_ Just had a burger and a beer in your honor. _

While he waited for Niall to respond, Harry watched Louis out of the corner of his eye. Louis stood with one hand on his hip, staring up at the sky which reflected off his sunglasses. His slightly windswept hair was soft today, unstyled, and Harry wanted to touch it. Louis was smiling at something Ruth said and tapping his foot as he waited. To Harry, Louis seemed like a bundle of energy and sunlight barely contained in one small but lovely body. It was hard to look away sometimes; Harry was only human.

Louis ended the call and turned to face Harry with a triumphant smile. “You ready? We’re supposed to meet them at the next stop in fifteen minutes.”

“How far is it?” Harry asked, pulling up google maps on his phone.

“No idea. But it’s nice out, so I vote we walk.”

That decided, Harry and Louis set out walking following the instructions on Harry’s phone. The route took them right to their destination, and Harry pocketed his phone. 

“This place isn’t listed in my guidebook,” Harry said, staring up at the drab brick exterior of a large building. “We’ll have to listen to Bob.”

They found the rest of the tour group standing together nearby, and went to join.

“Gentlemen, just in time,” Bob boomed with a smile. “Join us.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied, smiling and waving at the rest of the group.

“Now, quiz time,” Bob said, addressing the group. “Who can tell me what this building was used for?”

Most of the tour group shrugged and looked around uncertainly, but Ruth picked up James’ hand and lifted it high.

“He knows!” Ruth answered, and everyone turned to see James smiling patiently at his wife.

“Yes, sir, tell us what you know,” Bob replied with an encouraging smile.

“It was the headquarters of the Cologne Gestapo during the war,” James explained.

“That’s right!” Bob said, smile widening. “Yes. From 1935 to 1945, the Gestapo used this facility as headquarters. It has been a memorial site since 1981. The facility offers an audio tour as well as several exhibits, which I urge you to investigate. Let’s meet back here in time to visit one more place before dinner, okay?”

The group assented, and everyone made their way to the entrance. The next hour or so flew by for Harry, as he was transported to one of the darkest times in human history. He and Louis opted for the audio tour, and it was full of information. The exhibits featured photographs of the center and its prisoners, as well as preserved Nazi propaganda that gave Harry the chills. The real eye-opener, however, was the presence of the original cells for detainees in the cellar. They were dark, narrow rooms that years later, still had an aura of despair. Harry didn’t take any photos, because he knew the mental image would last forever.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a soft hand at his back and turned in surprise to see Louis. He offered Harry a subdued smile, and then wiped the tears off Harry’s cheeks with his shirt sleeves. Harry sniffled and smiled in thanks, and Louis pulled off his headphones. Harry did the same.

“Let’s get out of here, H,” Louis said softly in the dim light of the cellar.

Louis laced his fingers through Harry’s and led him towards the exit. There they found most of the tour group huddled together, looking similarly morose. Louis stopped at a counter where he deposited his and Harry’s audio sets, and then turned to face Harry.

“Alright?” he asked.

Harry bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah. It’s just...like, I knew it was awful, but actually seeing it...god, Louis.”

“I know,” Louis said softly. “C’mere.”

Louis opened his arms for a hug, and Harry went willingly. He didn’t realize how much he needed it until Louis tightened his arms around him. Harry’s body relaxed for the first time in over an hour, and he let out a deep breath.

“There we go,” Louis praised, rubbing Harry’s back. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, finally pulling away. “Thanks.”

“Hey, I needed it too, you know,” Louis admitted with a small smile. “Ready to go?”

Harry took one more wary look around the facility, then nodded. “Yes, please.”

Bob led a subdued group out the exit and towards their next stop, which he guaranteed would end the day on a happier note.

“What do you think it is?” Louis asked, walking next to Harry.

“I wouldn’t say no to another chocolate museum,” Harry said with a weak smile.

“Right? What a wonderful place,” Louis sighed at the memory.

In the end, it wasn’t a chocolate museum, but a foray into nature that restored the group.

“Botanical gardens?” Harry asked excitedly. “Wow!”

Having never seen anything like it, especially at sunset, Harry and Louis were enchanted. While several other tourists mingled around the carefully cultivated flowers and landscapes, the sights were still beautiful.

Louis pulled out his phone and turned on the video recorder. “You know what we need? Another video installment of the farewell tour. Harry, say hi.”

Harry turned to face Louis and the camera. “Hi!”

“Harry, tell our lovely viewers where we are today.”

“We’re, um, at the botanical garden in Cologne. It’s a lovely day.”

“Yes, it is!” Louis agreed, aiming his camera at the expanse of flowers and greenscape around them. “Join us as we tour this charming place.”

Louis kept the camera on as he followed Harry down a garden path lined with bright red flowers. Harry stopped to take a few photos himself, admiring the flowers.

“Observe Harry in his natural habitat,” Louis whispered to the camera. “See how he yearns to make a flower crown and prance in the grass.”

Harry snorted a laugh and turned to face Louis. “Will you make me one?”

“If I thought I could do it without us getting kicked out, sure.”

“No one is looking, Lou.”

“There are literally hundreds of people around, Harry. Absolutely not.”

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “They won’t notice one flower missing. I’m sure people do it all the time.”

Louis shook his head fondly, but leaned down to pluck a vibrant purple flower from the flowerbed. “Okay, but you have to wear this for the rest of the day.”

“Deal.”

Louis turned the camera to record himself saying, “The things I do for you, H. I swear.”

“Will you put it in my hair?” Harry asked, smiling happily.

“See what I’m forced to do, viewers?” Louis lamented. But he gingerly tucked the purple flower behind Harry’s ear and smiled. “Pretty.”

“Thank you,” Harry grinned.

“Now smile for the camera and say ‘illegal flower picking,’” Louis quipped.

“Illegal flower picking! Thanks, Lou,” Harry smiled sweetly into the camera.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. Now I think we need to leave the scene of the crime.”

Together, Harry and Louis walked casually away from the flower bed, grinning like they’d just pulled off a jewel heist. Harry looked over his shoulder, but no one was chasing them.

“Lawbreaker,” he whispered into Louis’ ear.

“Hey, you’re complicit, too,” Louis warned, tugging on one of Harry’s curls. “You’re literally wearing the exhibit.”

Harry carefully touched the soft flower in his hair. “Worth it.”

For the next half hour, Harry and Louis walked along the garden paths, stopping to photograph pretty flowers and landscapes. Bob had been right; it was the perfect way to unwind after seeing the previous facility. The sun set in a brilliant display of colors, and Harry took a few more photos of the garden. Then he turned to face Louis.

“Let’s take another sunset selfie,” he proposed.

Louis smiled. “Ah, why not. Come on.”

Louis gestured Harry closer, until they could both fit in the frame. With the sunset behind them, their faces were a bit dim in the photo, but their smiles were unmistakable. For a moment after the photo was taken, Harry leaned into Louis’ side contently, feeling as if no one could drag him down now. 

*

Dinner was another restaurant with the tour group, and then it was back to the hotel to pack up. They were taking the night train to their next destination, and Harry was hoping this time he and Louis would sleep for most of the trip. He packed up his camera and guidebooks, then waited for Louis to finish packing before they exited the hotel room and went to the lobby to meet the group.

“Next stop?” Harry asked with a knowing smile.

“Amsterdam!” Louis exclaimed happily, smiling so wide his eyes crinkled in the corners.

Harry realized he would do just about anything to keep that smile on Louis’ face. He was in too deep to care, though.

*


	5. Chapter 5

V.

 

Amsterdam

 

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.”

\--Henry David Thoreau

 

An hour into the five hour train ride to Amsterdam, Harry looked up from his travel book to find Louis staring at him. 

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously.

“What are you reading?” Louis replied, gaze focusing on Harry’s book.

“The section about things to do in Amsterdam,” Harry said. “See?” He tilted the book towards Louis and pointed to the part he was currently reading.

“The Anne Frank house,” Louis read over Harry’s shoulder. “Can we go there?”

“I’m sure we will,” Harry answered. “And look here, canals. I know how you love exploring them.”

Louis glanced up and grinned. “Did we, or did we not have an absolute blast on those Venetian canals?”

“We did,” Harry said, mirroring Louis’ grin. “These should be fun, too.”

“I’m really excited, H,” Louis confessed. “And not just because we can smoke weed, although that could be fun. Everyone I know who’s been here says it’s an amazing place.”

For the next few minutes, Harry and Louis scanned through the guide book’s suggestions for Amsterdam. Besides the famed Red-Light District, there were also famous art museums, parks, and cafes to explore. Secretly, the idea of smoking with Louis in one of the city’s famed coffeeshops gave Harry a thrill. Every time he had ever smoked weed had been with Louis, and the times they shared while high were vivid in Harry’s memory. He wondered if Louis remembered them as well.

Harry opened his mouth to ask Louis about some of their high adventures when he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked down to find Louis had nodded off to sleep with his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. It gave Harry butterflies in his stomach, and warmth seeped through his body. He decided to let Louis sleep as long as he could. Carefully, so as not to wake Louis, Harry wound his arm around Louis’ slender shoulders and got comfortable for the long ride ahead. If he had a wide smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep minutes later, no one was the wiser.

*

Harry awoke in a dark train compartment to the feeling of a hand patting his thigh. He knew it was Louis before he opened his eyes. It seemed Louis was all around him there, in close confines. His familiar scent was the first thing Harry noticed--a mixture of subtle cologne, soap, and something purely Louis. Harry’s whole right side was warm where Louis was still pressed to his body. Not for the first time on their trip, Harry wanted to capture the moment in a photograph and live in it forever.

“Harry, are you awake?” Louis whispered in the dark, hand squeezing Harry’s thigh.

“No,” Harry mumbled, trying to burrow down in Louis’ side.

Louis laughed softly, his hand coming to rest on top of Harry’s leg. “Yes, you are. C’mon, now, open your eyes.”

Harry sighed, but slowly blinked his eyes open to take stock of things. The other passengers must have dozed off as well, because the only sound was the train hurtling towards its destination in the night. He turned to face Louis, and found him to be staring back.

“There we go,” Louis said softly, smiling at Harry. “Hey, remember the Crayola crayons?”

“Yeah, why?” Harry rasped, blinking slowly.

“Your eyes look like the forest green crayon in here,” Louis replied.

“Really?”

“Yep. How do mine look?”

Harry stared thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled sleepily. “Cerulean.”

“Cerulean?” Louis asked with a snort. “You must be sleep-talking.”

“Nope,” Harry said, leaning his head against the seat’s headrest. “I know my crayons. Cerulean.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Okay, crayon expert. Are we there yet?”

Harry pulled out his phone to check the time. “Looks like half an hour to go.”

“That’s not bad,” Louis yawned. He sank back against Harry’s side. “We’ll be there in no time.”

“You’re going to fall asleep again,” Harry warned, patting Louis on the shoulder.

“At least I don’t snore,” Louis retorted with a smug smile.

“Excuse you, I do not snore.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“I liked you better when you were asleep,” Harry grumped, relaxing next to Louis.

“Rude.”

“What was it you said last time? ‘Sorry, not sorry’?” Harry yawned.

“Touche,” Louis said sleepily. “Wake me up when we get there.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a soft snore from Louis. He shook his head fondly and let the swaying of the train lull him back to sleep.

*

The tour group arrived at the Ramada Apollo Amsterdam Centre soon after, and the bleary-eyed passengers collected their luggage and shuffled to their rooms. Even the usually chipper Bob was yawning as he instructed the group to meet in the lobby at eight to begin their tour of the city.

From their room on the tenth floor of the tower-like hotel, Harry and Louis had a great view of the surrounding area. Like their lodgings in Cologne, the Ramada Apollo featured a minimalist style with clean lines and simple decor. In addition to the king bed, there was a window seat that looked down on the city, a desk and chair, and a modern bathroom. Thankfully, again, there were no chandeliers.

Harry and Louis dropped their luggage and shrugged out of their jackets to get ready for a proper sleep. Their nap on the train had left Harry even more sleepy than when they started, oddly enough. So he stripped down to his pants and crawled under the covers of the large bed.

Moments later, Louis was plugging in his phone charger and climbing into bed on the other side.

“I set an alarm for seven,” Louis mumbled as he burrowed down into the sheets.

“Perfect,” Harry replied, not bothering to open his eyes. “Goodnight, Lou.”

“Night, H. Sleep tight.”

*

Harry awoke to the opening bars of “Dancing Queen,” of all things, as bright morning sunlight streamed through the window. Next to him, Louis made no move to turn off the alarm--or move at all. Harry feebly swatted Louis on the arm, which was the closest thing in reach, and grumbled.

“Lou.”

Louis sighed in his sleep as ABBA began to sing at full volume, but didn’t move.

“Louis.”

Harry poked Louis harder on the arm, to no avail. Sighing, he sat up in bed, crawled over Louis’ prone body, and silenced the alarm.

“Too early...for dancing,” Harry groaned, setting Louis’ now-quiet phone back on the night stand. Harry heard a quiet snicker, and looked down to find a sleepy-eyed Louis staring up at him.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Louis rasped in the now-silent room, “but why are you on top of me?”

Harry flushed a deep pink and gestured to Louis’ phone. “Better question: why did you choose “Dancing Queen” for your alarm?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d never do that.”

Harry stared down at Louis in fond exasperation. “Mhm. Right.”

“So...back to you being on top of me?” Louis asked with a glint in his eye.

“Oh! Sorry,” Harry said, crawling back over Louis to his side of the bed.

“Not complaining,” Louis yawned. “Not a bad way to wake up.”

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah, well. Keep playing ABBA and it’ll never happen again.”

“Please,” Louis scoffed, curling up on his side to face Harry. “You said my eyes are  _ cerulean _ . It’ll happen again.”

“Well, if I hear that ringtone again, I’m throwing your phone out the window.”

“You wouldn’t dare. There are important photos and video commentaries on there.”

Harry laughed. “How could I forget? The Coliseum Hunger Games?”

“If we die, we die like men,” Louis insisted.

Harry sighed and buried his face in his pillow. “It’s too early for this.”

“You’re right,” Louis mused. “Why don’t you get back on top of me and we can see what happens?”

Harry peeked out one eye to stare at Louis. “You know exactly what would happen.”

Louis shrugged nonchalantly, but began to grin. “I think I do.”

There was a charged silence as Harry flashed back to numerous mornings that started just like this, and usually ended in blow jobs and a home-cooked breakfast.

“Got you thinking about it,” Louis said with a smug smile.

In response, Harry tossed his pillow at Louis. “Get up. Time to get ready.”

Louis sighed and sat up in bed, revealing a familiar tan torso that Harry wanted to lick champagne off of. Harry groaned at the thought, and Louis looked over his shoulder at Harry. He grinned mischievously.

“You’re staring, H.”

“Am not,” Harry frowned, quickly averting his eyes.

“Mhm. Whatever you say. I call first shower.”

Louis rose from the bed, and Harry pointedly did not watch him as he walked to the bathroom. And he definitely didn’t think about drinking champagne off his skin. Nope. When the water turned on in the shower behind the closed bathroom door, Harry refused to think about the steam curling around Louis’ lithe body as water cascaded down his chest. That line of thinking would only get him in trouble. But then again, getting into trouble with Louis had kind of been their tradition since the beginning. Harry smiled as he remembered the first of many times Louis had talked him into something ridiculous.

_ “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” Louis asked, taking a sip of his Corona. _

_ Harry grinned and thought back to the things he and Niall had gotten up to in uni. There were plenty to choose from, Harry knew, but under Louis’ mischievous gaze, he couldn’t think of any. _

_ Harry and Louis had recently made it official, that they were dating, and Harry was on cloud nine. Harry sipped his margarita to buy himself time, and finally shrugged. _

_ “We, um. Stole a lot of shit back in uni.” _

_ Louis’ jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” _

_ “Well, not like robbing banks or something,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes. “We just tended to walk off with things no one would miss.” _

_ “Such as?” _

_ “Let’s see...we went to a friend’s wedding at this really nice winery, right? And it was open bar. Somehow, at the end of the night, we walked right out with their fancy inscripted wine glasses. It was an accident,” Harry explained. “But after that, we kind of made a game of it.” _

_ “Like who could walk away with the best items?” Louis guessed, a smile spreading across his face. _

_ “Exactly.” _

_ “Hmm,” Louis mused, smiling at Harry. “Nope, I don’t buy it.” _

_ “What?!” _

_ “There’s no way you would ever steal something. I don’t believe it.” _

_ Harry huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Why would I lie about that?” _

_ “I’m just saying,” Louis said with a shrug. “You seem like the kind of person who accidentally gets two drinks from the vending machine, and then tries to give one back.” _

_ Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. “Oh my god.” _

_ “Alright, alright,” Louis finally relented. “Bet you can’t steal something here and get away with it.” _

_ “With this face?” Harry asked, changing his expression to look sweet and innocent. “Please. What do you want? I can get it.” _

_ Louis looked around the table at the restaurant they were currently at, examining each item on the table. _

_ “Nice salt shaker,” he mused, running a delicate finger along the salt shaker. “But it’s just not quite...special enough.” _

_ Harry leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Pick something good, and I’ll get it.” _

_ Louis’ eyes roamed the room, finally settling on a small glass vase with an artificial daffodil inside. “That.” _

_ Harry raised his eyebrows, examining the vase. “You want this?” _

_ “I mean, if you can do it, that is.” _

_ “If I can do it,” Harry grumbled to himself. “Please.” _

_ Louis watched in fascination as Harry reached for the vase. Just then, their waiter arrived with the check, and Harry pulled his hand back quickly. He pasted on a bland smile and thanked the waiter. When he had left, Harry looked at Louis with a guilty smile. _

_ “I kind of feel bad about this,” he confessed. _

_ Louis shook his head fondly. “Told you you couldn’t do it.” _

_ “I didn’t say I can’t do it,” Harry corrected. “I just said I feel bad.” At those words, Harry casually reached for the vase, tucked it into his messenger bag, and grabbed the bill. “Ready to go?” he asked Louis, who was staring with his jaw dropped. _

_ “I...sure,” Louis stammered, quickly rising from his seat. _

_ “Act natural,” Harry hissed into his ear. He tucked the silk daffodil further into his bag. Then he strolled to the cashier’s counter as casually as possible. He paid their bill, exchanged pleasantries with the cashier about their meal, and then led Louis out the door. _

_ They made it half a block and around a corner before Harry began to giggle. Louis started laughing too, and soon they had to stop and catch their breath. _

_ “I can’t believe you really did that,” Louis exclaimed, pointing at Harry’s bag. “Jesus.” _

_ Harry chuckled. “Told you so.” _

_ “Okay, now I feel kind of bad. What if that was like, their favorite vase?” _

_ “Louis, I’m sure people take things from the tables all the time.” _

_ “What are you going to do with it?” Louis asked. _

_ “Might wrap it up and give it to you for Christmas,” Harry giggled. _

_ “Don’t you dare,” Louis hissed, punching Harry on the arm. He looked over his shoulder as if expecting the police to be trailing them. “Let’s get out of here!” _

_ Harry made sure the vase was tucked carefully in his bag, then set off running down the street. _

_ “Hey!” Louis exclaimed, running to catch up. “What happened to acting natural?” _

_ Harry looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “What? Afraid I’ll beat you?” _

_ “Ha!” Louis scoffed, easily catching up. “First one home gets to keep the vase!” _

_ With that, Louis took off like a rocket down the street, and Harry laughed as he chased him home. They ended up setting the vase and slightly-crinkled flower on the kitchen windowsill of Harry’s flat, where it still stood to this day. _

The shower water shut off while Harry lay there musing, and yes, he was still in a hotel in Amsterdam. He jumped up from the rumpled bed, grabbed clean clothes, and tried to act casual. No need to stroll down memory lane this early in the morning, Harry reasoned. He shook his head as if to shake away the memories, and waited for his turn in the shower.

*

After a hot shower, breakfast, and coffee, Harry was feeling better. He greeted Ruth and James, and then listened to Bob explain their schedule for the day.

First up was the Anne Frank house, and Bob explained the necessity to book tickets early because space was limited. They took a coach to the site, and Harry read his guidebook during the short ride.

_ With its reconstruction of Anne’s melancholy bedroom and her actual diary--sitting alone in its glass case, filled with sunnily optimistic writing tempered by quiet despair--it’s a powerful experience. _

Just reading gave Harry goosebumps. Louis turned in his seat where he was scrolling through Twitter to ask if he was alright.

“I think so,” Harry said. “Probably gonna cry at this one.”

“Probably,” Louis agreed, patting Harry’s arm. “But it’s okay.”

“Did you know I used to keep a diary when I was a kid?” Harry asked.

“No,” Louis answered in surprise. “What did you write about?”

Harry grinned at the memory. “Oh, you know. How annoying my sister was; what I liked to do for fun; all my aspirations of being famous and moving to London.”

“Nice,” Louis replied. “Did you keep it?”

“Oh yes,” Harry said. “Think it’s at my flat, actually.”

“That’s good, H. You should keep it forever.”

“I will, I think.”

Sooner than he was mentally prepared, they arrived at the Frank house. Harry left his guidebook in the coach and followed Louis out into the chilly morning air to wait in line. As the tour group waited for their turn to enter the house, Bob gave them a summary of the site.

“During World War II, Anne hid with her family and four other people from the Nazis in hidden rooms known as the Secret Annex. Anne did not survive the war, but her diary was published in 1947. The museum opened in 1960, and features an exhibition on persecution and discrimination, among other things. Let’s go check it out.”

The group was already somber as they filed into the house. There was something sobering about being in such a historical place that Harry had not felt in some of the amazing sights they had seen on the trip. Just knowing that an event in such recent history had changed the world forever, had Harry swallowing a lump in his throat. For some reason, he began to think about his own sister, and what he would do if something ever happened to her. Harry pulled out his phone and sent a quick text, not to the group chat, but just to Gemma.

_ Love and miss you! ~H _

By the time he was standing in front of Anne’s diary in a glass case, Harry’s eyes were blurring with tears. He didn’t take a photo, but stood for a long moment, just picturing the young girl writing as she and her family hid for their lives. When the first hot tear fell down Harry’s cheek, he felt a slender hand lace through his and squeeze. He knew without turning his head that it was Louis.

Neither spoke for a moment. Harry just stared at the diary while he gripped Louis’ hand. Finally, he sighed and wiped the tears away.

“Hey, Lou?” he asked, staring resolutely at the diary.

“Hmm?” Louis replied.

“I just...I want to make the world a better place, you know?”

“You’re already doing that, love. Just by being you.”

“You think so?” Harry sniffled.

“Hey, look at me,” Louis coaxed, pulling Harry closer by the hand. Reluctantly, Harry turned to face Louis, and was shocked to see tears in his eyes as well. Harry realized Louis must be thinking of his own sisters then.

“The world is a better place because you’re in it,” Louis said, squeezing Harry’s hand for emphasis. “ _ My  _ world is a better place. Because of you. Okay?”

Harry offered a watery smile and nodded. “Okay.”

“Let’s go finish the tour, and then maybe we can take a break.”

“Deal,” Harry sighed in relief. Then he followed Louis out of Anne’s room, away from the diary that would stick with Harry for as long as he lived.

*

The Van Gogh museum was next, according to Bob, and then lunch.

“It’s the world’s largest Van Gogh collection,” Bob explained as he handed out their tickets. They were standing in a group outside a large museum with gleaming glass and clean lines that Harry liked instinctively. He had orders from Gemma to take a photo of the flower paintings, wherever they were, so he made sure to bring his camera.

The group entered into the airy, spacious atrium of the museum. Some of the senior citizens of the group opted for the audio tour, while others, like Ruth and James, decided to wander on their own.

“Have you been here before?” Harry asked Ruth, who was reading an informational pamphlet from a display table.

“Oh, yes,” Ruth said with a wide smile. “You won’t be disappointed.”

“Ruth studied art in school,” James chimed in with a smile. “She’s something of an expert.”

“Really?” Louis asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s amazing!”

“Oh, hush now,” Ruth said modestly, swatting James on the arm. “I’m no expert, boys. I have just always loved art, and painting in particular.”

“She could give you a better tour than Bob,” James continued on. “Couldn’t you, dear?”

“I suppose I could try,” Ruth said with a shrug. “I can at least point out my favorite pieces, if you’d like.”

Harry and Louis exchanged a nod, then told Ruth they’d love to take a tour with her. The four of them set out across the museum, with Ruth and James leading the group. Their first stop was a painting of blossoms on a tree, which Ruth explained was the famed almond blossom painting.

The painting featured a simple sky blue background and a tree with many slender branches, capped with delicate white almond blossoms.

“It was completed in 1890,” Ruth explained, gesturing towards the painting. “To Van Gogh, flowers represented hope and awakening.”

“They’re beautiful,” Harry replied, lifting his camera to take a photo. He wasn’t sure which flowers Gemma wanted photos of, so he decided to photograph everything.

From there, Ruth led them to a painting called “Avenue of Poplars in Autumn.” The colors were rich oranges, browns, and yellows for the poplar trees, with a blue sky peeking through above. Harry felt as if he could stare at this one for days and never get bored. There was something about the composition of the poplar trees and the woodland path that indicated movement and energy. Harry was no art expert, but he loved the painting just the same.

“It’s your favorite season, isn’t it?” Louis asked from beside Harry. “Autumn.”

Harry turned to Louis and smiled. “It is. You remembered?”

Louis rolled his eyes but grinned. “Of course. You only took a million photos of the autumn leaves in the park that one time.”

Harry’s smile softened. “They were beautiful leaves. And it was a beautiful day.”

“I believe this one was painted in October of 1884,” Ruth ventured, bursting the little bubble Harry and Louis were in. Harry was the first to look away and examine the painting again.

“We like this one,” Louis replied.

“Oh, so do I,” Ruth sighed happily. “Would you like to see my favorite one?”

“Lead the way,” Harry said, allowing Ruth and James to pass.

Ruth led them around a couple corners, bypassing priceless paintings that Harry vowed to return to one day when he had more time. Ruth stopped behind a small group of people who were examining a series of paintings on the wall.

“We have to wait our turn,” she explained, gesturing to the crowd. “But it’s worth it.”

The first thing that Harry noticed when the crowd parted little by little was the color. He had never seen so many rich shades of yellow and gold in his life. The flowers were gorgeous.

Sunflowers. Dozens and dozens of them, framed beautifully for all to see.

“They were painted between 1888 and 1889,” Ruth whispered to the little group. “In a period of the artist’s life that had happier times. You can see that in his choice of color.”

Louis linked his arm through Harry’s and led him closer to the paintings. “Look, H. It’s you. Sunflowers.”

Harry flashed back then to a windy afternoon at sunset standing on the Koln Triangle observation deck with Louis. He had smiled enigmatically and called Harry a sunflower. Now, as on that day, butterflies fluttered in Harry’s stomach at the reference.

“I think you’re that one,” Louis added, pointing to one of the paintings. It featured a bouquet of the cheerful yellow flowers against a backdrop of goldenrod, arranged in a simple vase. Everything about the painting was warm to Harry, from the yellow of the sunflowers to the vibrant background to the curve of the flower petals. He wondered if that’s how Louis saw him--warm and bright.

“Ah yes, the repetitions,” Ruth said, following Louis’ line of sight. “This one was painted in January of 1889. Truly beautiful.”

Harry felt Louis’ eyes on him and blushed a little under the museum lights. He remembered standing with Louis in their own little world atop the observation deck in Cologne and thinking, “If I’m a sunflower, then you’re the sun.” The more time he spent with Louis on this trip, the clearer that thought became.

Harry took several photos when the crowd dispersed. He suspected these were the flowers Gemma wanted. When he finished, Harry turned to find Louis listening intently to something Ruth was saying.

“...which led to a darker, more tortured period in the artist’s life. We can see this most clearly in his color and composition choices in “Wheatfield with Crows. Would you like to see it?”

Harry and Louis agreed, and Ruth led the way to the last painting they would study that morning.

“It was completed in July of 1890,” Ruth said, stopping before a beautiful landscape. “It’s said to be the artist’s last painting, but there is some debate there. You can see the way he depicts uncertainty and despair by the directionless flight of the crows.”

The painting, while grim, was still breathtaking to Harry. In the artist’s measured brushstrokes and use of color, Harry could feel a sense of emptiness he had never been able to articulate in words since the breakup. He snapped several photos of the painting, lost in his own little world.

“Van Gogh shot himself the same month he painted this wheatfield,” Ruth said, interrupting Harry’s musings. “He died two days later. Interestingly, he was neither famous nor successful during his lifetime. It was only after his death that his works gained popularity.”

Harry stared at the swirls of color in the sky above the wheatfield and wondered what it was like to feel that level of despair. He shivered at the thought. As if sensing his mood, Ruth patted Harry on the back.

“Of course, now the artist is celebrated as one of the most influential painters in history. His works have lived on through everyone who has experienced them.”

Harry took one last look at the painting, and then let Ruth lead him away towards the exit. As if reading his mind, Louis leaned closer and whispered, “Think about the sunflowers, not the crows.”

Harry turned to give Louis a lopsided smile. “I’m glad we came here, though. Even if it’s a little depressing.”

“Let’s get some good lunch in you, and then see what Bob has in store for the rest of the day,” Louis replied, guiding Harry with a hand at the small of his back.

“Lunch, did you say?”

“Yes, indeed.”

*

Rijks restaurant was nearby and highly recommended, so Harry and Louis joined Ruth and James there for lunch. It was a bright, airy space with floor to ceiling windows and clean, polished tables throughout. The bar was well-stocked with meticulously arranged bottles, and the food prep station was framed by a marble top bar lined up with stools for customers to sit on.

Harry and Louis took the waiter’s suggestion and ordered a meal of clams, scallops, and mussels. While they waited for their food, Ruth and James described their previous trip to Amsterdam. In their younger days, it seemed, the couple had been quite adventurous. James leaned closer to Ruth and whispered something that made her giggle, and Harry and Louis exchanged amused glances.

“Basically, we learned the hard way that a coffee shop was not just for coffee,” Ruth admitted with a twinkle in her eye.

“First and last time we ever accepted marijuana from a stranger,” James deadpanned.

“What a trip,” Ruth said, shaking her head fondly. “Good times.”

“Where did we end up after that?” James asked.

“I think we wandered the canals until we ended up in the red light district,” Ruth mused. “Don’t smoke and then hit the district like that, boys. Or do. What’s that they say? ROLO?”

“It’s YOLO, dear,” James corrected with a grin. “You only live once.”

Ruth lifted her glass in salute. “YOLO, then, boys!”

Harry and Louis lifted their glasses as well, trying not to laugh. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” Harry said, glancing at Louis with a grin.

“That’s the spirit, boys,” Ruth cheered. “Just don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

*

The Rijksmuseum was near the restaurant, so Harry and Louis accepted their tickets from Bob and entered the museum. 

What does your book say about this one?” Louis asked.

Harry browsed the section on Amsterdam and found the entry about the museum.

“Says the highlight is Rembrandt’s ‘Night Watch’ painting,” Harry replied. “Want to check it out?”

“Sure.”

The museum also featured the history of art in Amsterdam, and was predictably full of tourists. The crowd around the “Night Watch” painting was so large that Harry and Louis waited their turn for several minutes.

The first thing they noticed about the painting when they could advance closer was the sheer size. The figures in the painting were almost life sized, to their amazement. In addition, the artist’s use of color contrast left the two main figures in the foreground in the brightest light, while the rest of the figures were in shadow.

“Who are they?” Harry whispered to Louis, who appeared to be searching Wikipedia about the painting.

“According to this, the painting is meant to symbolize a military victory. The two men are Captain Frans Banning Cocq and his lieutenant, Willem Van Ruytenburch.”

“Is that...a woman holding a chicken?” Harry asked, squinting at another figure in the painting.

“Yes,” Louis said with a small laugh. “The chicken represents a defeated adversary, apparently.”

“So, this is huge,” Harry replied conversationally, trying to fit the entire painting into a picture on his camera. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Louis said, clearly impressed. “Reminds me of those frescoes in the Sistine Chapel. Only this time, it’s not illegal to take photos.”

“Come on, you had fun taking those photos,” Harry countered, flashing a grin.

“Maybe a little,” Louis said with a guilty smile. “Want to keep looking around?”

“Let’s do it.”

For the next twenty minutes, Harry and Louis wandered the museum, simply pointing out things they found interesting. It was a nice change of pace from their usual museum tours. By the time they made it to the exit, Bob and the tour group were nowhere in sight. 

“Um, now what?” Harry asked, looking around at the sea of strangers.

“I can call Ruth if you want. Find out what’s next,” Louis offered, pulling out his phone.

“What time is it?” Harry asked.

“About 3 pm,” Louis replied.

“You know what? Let’s just go explore for a while,” Harry suggested.

“Where do you want to start?”

“How about...there?” Harry said, pointing to a large sculpture sign in front of the museum that spelled “I Amsterdam.”

Together, they joined the crowd of tourists taking photos in front of the sign. Some were just standing in front of the giant letters, while others were actually climbing on top of them.

“So it’s like the Hollywood sign,” Louis proposed, standing in front of the letters for Harry to take his picture.

“Kind of,” Harry replied, trying to get as many of the letters in the frame as he could.

Afterwards, Louis took a photo for Harry. They were standing by the sign scrolling through their photos for the day when someone offered to take a picture of the two of them. Louis offered the polite older couple his phone rather than Harry’s nice camera, just in case. But they had nothing to worry about. Louis scrambled up on top of the “A” in Amsterdam, and Harry stood below and struck a pose. When the couple handed back Louis’ phone and they looked at the picture, Harry and Louis both laughed.

The photo was zoomed in so that only the letters “I Am” were showing, and Harry and Louis had both struck a funny pose.

“Profile picture?” Harry guessed as Louis posted the photo immediately.

“Of course!” Louis replied with a laugh.

They thanked the older couple for taking the photo, then wandered off to explore the city. They were near the canals, and decided to just get lost like they had done in Venice. After about fifteen minutes of walking Louis turned to Harry.

“You know what I could really go for right now?” he asked.

“What?”

“Some coffee.”

“Louis. I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no.”

“What was I going to say, then?” Louis countered with an innocent expression.

“You were going to say we should go to a coffee shop and get high,” Harry accused.

“Guilty,” Louis shrugged with a grin. “C’mon, H. It’ll be fun.”

“Lou…”

“Look, we’ve had a pretty emotional morning. Let’s just blow off some steam for a while and see what happens.”

Harry sighed. “What if we see someone we know, and we’re high as kites?”

“Who are we going to know here?” Louis asked with a laugh. “Let’s just try it. And if you don’t like it, we’ll leave. Okay?”

“Oh god. Okay, I guess,” Harry relented. Louis cheered and patted him on the back.

“Follow me. This is going to be fun.”

*

That was how, ten minutes later, Harry and Louis were standing in front of Barney’s coffee shop. They exchanged glances, and Louis grinned.

“According to the internet, this is the best one.”

“Well, since we’re here, we might as well,” Harry shrugged.

Louis beamed and went to open the door for Harry. Harry didn’t know what he was expecting when he entered the coffee shop. But looking around at the decor and the funky, colorful tables and chairs, it kind of made sense. At the bar, a man in a black apron gestured for Harry and Louis to seat themselves.

Louis led the way to a table by the window and promptly picked up the menu. “So, what are you in the mood for?” he asked.

Harry studied the menu for a moment. “No idea. You?”

“When was the last time you had a really great cookie?” Louis asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“If by cookie you mean a pot cookie, I guess never. The closest I’ve come was that time we attempted to make pot brownies, and nearly burned the flat down.”

Louis laughed at the memory. “How could I forget? The flat smelled like chocolate and weed for days.”

“So, cookies it is, then?” Harry asked, setting down his menu. “And maybe some coffee, because I’m actually craving it.”

When the waiter arrived at their table, Louis ordered them drinks and cannabis cookies. After showing his ID, Louis was in the clear to enjoy whatever the coffee shop had to offer.

“So,” Louis said while they waited, “favorite high memory you have?”

Harry grinned and then thought for a moment. “Well...probably the time we climbed up the fire escape to the roof of my flat and stargazed.”

“God, that was awesome,” Louis sighed contently. “Fucking freezing out, though.”

“If I remember correctly, we eventually came inside and took a scalding hot shower,” Harry said.

“That shower was not made for two people,” Louis laughed. “But it was fun.”

“So what are we going to do tonight?” Harry asked.

“Hmm...I was thinking we could splurge on a nice dinner and then hit the red light district. Just for fun; I’m not looking to actually solicit anyone.”

“Good plan,” Harry agreed with a nod. “Fancy dinner. Sketchy district. Good.”

Louis chuckled. “That’s the spirit. As Ruth said, YOLO.”

When their orders arrived on simple white plates, Harry lifted his cookie in salute. “YOLO!”

Louis mirrored his action, and then took a generous bite of the cookie. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then took a sip of his latte.

“Now there’s just one rule, H,” he warned as Harry took a tentative bite of his cookie. “Once that kicks in, you absolutely cannot start flirting with the first person you see.”

“Excuse you, I do not flirt--”

“I’ve seen it. You totally have. Keep it together, alright?” Louis asked.

“Fine,” Harry sighed, slumping back in his seat. “And you can’t start swearing up a storm like you do.”

“Fine,” Louis said with an easy shrug. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Now let’s eat.”

*

Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but two cookies later, he was nudging Louis’ foot suggestively under the table, and the world was full of delightful colors. Louis’ eyes, in particular, were electric blue in the late afternoon light of the coffee shop.

“Alright there, H?” Louis asked when Harry tangled their feet together under the table.

“Mhm. Never better. How are you?”

“Wonderful, thanks,” Louis said, leaning his head back against the wall. “Never better.”

“What did your last cookie taste like?” Harry asked, trying to focus his eyes on Louis’.

“Um,” Louis pondered for a moment, “like cinnamon and a lot of sugar. Yours?”

“Chocolate mint,” Harry said with a grin. He went to prop his chin on his hand and missed. When he giggled, Louis grinned at him until his eyes crinkled up at the corners.

“You’re totally high,” Louis accused, eyes drifting shut.

“So are you,” Harry shrugged, taking one last sip of his mocha. “Damn.”

“What is it?” Louis asked, cracking one eye open.

“There’s no one cute in here,” Harry lamented.

“Excuse you, but I am totally cute,” Louis fired back.

“I don’t know,” Harry said breezily. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re sassy when you’re high,” Louis replied. He opened his arms to Harry. “Come here.”

Harry didn’t think before he felt his feet move. He slowly stood and walked around the round table to stand in front of Louis.

“Yes?”

“Closer,” Louis urged, eyes fluttering open slowly.

Harry grinned and slung one long leg over Louis’ lap, then sat down. “Better?”

“Much. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Cuteness. I’ll have you know,” he trailed off, suddenly opening his eyes wider and realizing just how close Harry was. “Oh, hello. I’ll have you know,” Louis said, poking a finger at Harry’s chest, “that I am the cutest person in this shop.”

“Oh, really. Says who?” Harry asked, rolling his eyes. The movement made him a little dizzy, and he held onto one of Louis’ shoulders so he wouldn’t float away.

“You said my eyes are  _ cerulean.  _ So I would say you, mister.”

“And you said mine are forest green. So maybe I’m actually the cutest,” Harry replied.

Louis sighed and shook his head. “Sassy.”

“You like it.”

“Fuck, but I do,” Louis breathed, long eyelashes fluttering.

“Language,” Harry reminded playfully.

Louis braced his hands on Harry’s waist. “Maybe you’re not high enough.”

“High enough to do this,” Harry countered, and slowly leaned in so close that his lips almost brushed Louis’. “You smell like cinnamon.”

Louis cracked a smile, hazy blue eyes roaming Harry’s face up close. “You smell like chocolate. I think you should kiss me.”

“I don’t know how those two things correlate,” Harry said with a grin, “but okay.”

Harry stroked gentle fingers down the side of Louis’ face, coming to rest against the pulse point in his neck. Under his fingers, Louis’ pulse raced. Harry leaned a fraction closer and at the last moment, pressed a kiss to Louis’ cheek instead.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered. He waited for Louis’ eyes to flutter open again. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long this time.”

Louis’ lips curved up into a slow smile. “You’re right on time, actually.”

Harry smiled back, then slowly pressed his lips to Louis’. He felt Louis’ pulse speed up under his fingers at the sensation. Harry reveled in the warmth of Louis’ lips, and the feeling of his hands framing his hips where they sat tangled together. Each wet slide of their mouths sparked something in Harry that lowered his inhibitions, until he was panting for breath against Louis’ mouth and winding his fingers in Louis’ soft fringe to tilt his head back for better access.

Harry brushed a row of soft kisses down the column of Louis’ neck, stopping to graze his teeth against the pulse point that fascinated him. Louis’ breath hitched at the feeling, and his fingers tightened their grip on Harry’s hips.

“Leave it to you,” Louis breathed as Harry sucked a mark on the skin of his neck, “to make kissing in public totally pornographic.”

Harry laughed lowly, pulling back to check his work on Louis’ neck. “If you want porn, I’ll blow you right here at this table.”

“Oh my god,” Louis said, lifting one hand to tangle in Harry’s curls. “You’re going to get us thrown out of here.”

“So is that a no to public blowjobs, or yes?”

“That’s a maybe,” Louis said, pulling on Harry’s hair just right.

Harry gasped and bucked his hips forward, seeking some kind of friction. In that moment, he absolutely would have slid down to his knees and sucked Louis off for everyone to see. Sensing Harry’s unraveling control, Louis yanked Harry’s head back.

“Take me to a nice dinner, and then if you still want it, you can have it.”

Harry took a few deep breaths, willing his semi-hard cock to calm down. He nodded slowly, then pressed one final kiss to Louis’ lips. When he pulled back, he smiled.

“We should be getting high every week,” Harry said with a slow smile.

Louis leaned his head back against the wall, his hold loosening in Harry’s hair. “You’re going to give me a heart attack. Jesus.”

“You’ll die happy, though,” Harry said, slumping towards Louis. He nuzzled his face into Louis’ neck, which was now sporting an impressive love bite. Before Harry could get too comfortable, Louis gestured the waiter over for the check.

“Dinner first, love. Then we can negotiate.”

“Oh, do you have some kinks I don’t know about?” Harry teased.

“Maybe, maybe not. Guess you’ll see.”

Harry looked around for the waiter.

“Check, please.”

*

If you asked Harry about the restaurant where he took Louis to dinner after they disentangled and left Barney’s coffee shop, he couldn’t tell you much beyond, “it was nice.” Dimly, Harry recognized the immaculate white tablecloths and spotless wine glasses were high quality, but he was preoccupied. Louis was sitting across from him wearing a knowing smile and a bruise on his neck from Harry’s mouth. Throughout the meal, the two stole long glances and amused smiles rather than conversation. And that was fine with Harry. He was picturing Louis spread out on their fresh white duvet in the hotel, sweat dotting his handsome face as Harry teased him with his mouth. It hadn’t been so long that he had forgotten the way Louis let loose when he was close to coming; how he would curse and tremble and eventually beg to come.

“What are you thinking?” Louis asked, daintily putting down his napkin on the table.

“Honestly? Your face,” Harry replied.

“What about it?”

“The way it looks when I’m sucking your cock.”

Louis’ jaw dropped and he gestured for the waiter impatiently. “Check, please!”

*

Amsterdam’s nightlife was beginning to stir when Harry and Louis left the restaurant with their fingers intertwined.

“I still want it,” Harry murmured in Louis’ ear as they walked.

They didn’t realize they had stumbled into the red light district until they saw, well, red lights. They hung above doorways and large picture windows where provocatively-dressed men and women waited for company.

Harry suspected he and Louis were still a little high, because Louis took one look at a woman in black, lacy lingerie and giggled.

“I’d like to see you in stockings like that,” Louis said, poking Harry in the side. “Do you have any?”

“Not currently,” Harry admitted. “Would you slowly pull them off of me, or just fuck me while I’m wearing them? I need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Hmm,” Louis mused, tilting his head in consideration. “Could go either way. Do you have a preference?”

“My preference,” Harry replied as they continued walking, “is for you to fuck me like tomorrow will never come.”

Louis raised his eyebrows in interest. “Tempting. But I’m not going to fuck you while we’re high.”

Harry tried not to pout, and was mostly successful. “What kind of rule is that?”

“A good one,” Louis replied, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Tomorrow, you’ll agree.”

“Maybe. But tonight, I want your dick in my mouth. Like, immediately.”

“Love, I know you’re a bit of an exhibitionist, but you’re not blowing me in public.”

“Where, then?”

“Hotel. Unless you want to try your luck with one of these lovely window gentlemen.”

“Nope. Hotel works for me,” Harry replied instantly, not even sparing a glance for the men and women standing in the windows, bathed in red light. “Let’s get out of here.”

*

Harry felt like he floated back to the hotel rather than walked, hand in hand with Louis. By the time they made it to their room, Harry had calmed down enough to see Louis’ reasoning was solid--but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a little fun.

No sooner had the door clicked behind Harry, but Louis had him pinned to it.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Louis murmured, caging Harry in with his hands, “how crazy is this?”

“I’d say a solid five,” Harry said breathlessly, reaching for the button on Louis’ jeans.

“A five I can handle,” Louis said with a mischievous smile.

When Harry reached for Louis, Louis took one step back, and then another.

“Sorry, did you want something?” he asked innocently.

“I do,” Harry said, slowly following Louis across the room. “Care to guess?”

Louis’ smile widened. “You want to blow me, H?”

Harry nodded, his eyes never leaving Louis’.

“Strip.”

The command took Harry off guard for a moment, but ultimately he knew Louis was in charge. Preferred it that way, actually. So Harry shrugged and pulled off his jacket, and then his sweater. He felt Louis’ eyes on his naked chest as Harry stepped out of his boots and kicked them aside. Harry hesitated when he reached the button and zip of his jeans.

“You sure, Lou?”

“Very,” came Louis’ quick reply.

Harry had been half hard for what felt like ages, and when he finally unzipped his tight jeans and pushed them down his thighs, he sighed in relief. He bent down to peel his jeans off his long legs and then tossed them to the side somewhere. When he stood upright now, he was down to his black pants.

Louis smiled appreciatively. “Been working out?”

Harry flushed under Louis’ piercing gaze. “Most days.”

“You’re gorgeous, babe. Come here,” Louis replied, tone softer now.

Harry strode towards Louis slowly, feeling as if time had slowed down and he was walking through water. Louis reached out a hand, and Harry slid his palm into Louis’. The simple action grounded Harry, who was still working off his high. 

“Being so good,” Louis rasped, quirking a smile. “Undress me, and then you can have it.”

Harry studied Louis’ eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt. He found none. So he curled his fingers in the hem of Louis’ sweater and slowly pulled it over his head. The expanse of tan skin he revealed was beautiful, perhaps more so now that he had gone without it for so long. Harry’s fingers skimmed down Louis’ chest and stomach to the waist of his jeans. His eyes flicked back up to meet Louis’, and once he knew Louis was watching, Harry sank down to his knees. He heard Louis suck in a breath of surprise above him, but he didn’t indicate for Harry to stop.

Harry unbuttoned Louis’ jeans and slowly unzipped them. He traced his fingers over the warm skin he exposed, taking his time. Louis stroked a hand through Harry’s curls in encouragement, and Harry pulled Louis’ jeans down his toned legs. Without realizing he was doing it, Harry pressed a soft kiss to the skin on Louis’ tummy. Louis’ fingers tightened in Harry’s hair in response.

“Let me get on the bed, babe,” Louis suggested. “Your knees will hurt tomorrow.”

Harry sat back on his heels and looked up as Louis loosened the hold in his hair and stepped back towards the bed. He waited for Louis to climb on the bed and get comfortable before standing himself. As Harry neared the bed, he came to a halt and removed his last article of clothing, his pants. He could feel Louis’ eyes on his body as he walked to the edge of the bed and waited for Louis’ instruction.

“So lovely,” Louis said with a smile. He palmed his hardening cock through his pants and reached for Harry with the other hand. “Come here, H.”

Harry smiled hazily, perhaps higher than he previously thought he was. He crawled on the bed and sat between Louis’ feet.

“Want to take these off?” Louis asked, still stroking his cock through his pants.

“Yeah,” Harry replied with a renewed sense of urgency. He didn’t touch his own cock, for one because he didn’t want to come yet, and for another, Louis hadn’t asked him to. They didn’t have a name for this game they played, where Louis took charge and took care of Harry. All Harry knew was it led to the most meaningful sex he had ever had.

Harry carefully pulled off Louis’ pants and tossed them aside, revealing what he had been missing for months now. He shouldn’t have been surprised that his hands trembled a little as they stroked down the now-bare skin of Louis’ hips and thighs.

“You can touch, love,” Louis encouraged. “I want you to.”

Harry met Louis’ eyes, to find them staring intently at Harry. Louis’ expression softened, and he smiled a smile that Harry hadn’t seen since the breakup. It made Harry’s heart feel like it was expanding in his chest. Coupled with the exquisite ache to touch himself and get some relief, Harry was high in a totally different sense now.

They both knew it was coming, but as soon as Harry curled a hand around the base of Louis’ thick cock, Louis gasped quietly. Harry took a moment to re-familiarize himself with the shape and weight of Louis in his hand. He gave an experimental stroke, and then ran his fingertips over the head of Louis’ cock. Louis’ hips twitched at the sensation.

“Doing so well, babe. You can take what you want now.”

Harry felt as if he was having an out-of-body experience as he leaned closer to lick a slow stripe up the side of Louis’ cock. He could almost see the scene play out from across the room, and everything felt hazy and warm. What finally grounded him was a familiar hand twining in his hair and tugging gently.

After that, Harry could finally let go. He swirled his tongue around the head of Louis’ cock, then slowly took him into his mouth inch by inch. Harry had always loved this, the stretch of his jaw and the way his mouth watered at the taste of Louis as he took him down. Louis moaned breathily and pulled a little harder on Harry’s hair. And it was like the entire focus of Harry’s existence narrowed down to the space surrounding Louis and him on the crisp hotel bed in Amsterdam, of all places. All he could hear was Louis gasping and moaning as he took still more of his cock into his mouth. Louis knew that Harry had no gag reflex, but he wasn’t pushing Harry. He simply anchored his hands in Harry’s hair as his thighs began to tremble. Harry knew Louis was close; could hear it in the shallow panting of breath, could feel it in the tensing of his strong thighs under Harry’s hands. Harry sucked him down deeper still, until the head nudged Harry’s throat. And then Harry pressed his tongue to the sensitive underside of Louis’ cock, and Louis cried out. He came with a shout and a yank of Harry’s hair, and Harry swallowed him down in a daze. His eyes were watering and his jaw ached, but when he looked up and met Louis’ amazed expression, it was all worth it. Harry gently released Louis’ cock from his mouth, breathing a little heavily himself, and sat back on his heels. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and licked his lips, still tasting Louis.

“Oh my god,” Louis said breathlessly, still coming down from his orgasm. “Come here, H.”

Harry rose on his knees and then caged Louis in with his arms and legs, hovering over him. He knew what Louis wanted. Ignoring his own hard cock, Harry leaned down and kissed Louis deeply, sharing the taste of his mouth with him.

“So good, love,” Louis murmured against Harry’s lips when they broke apart. “You okay?”

“Okay,” Harry rasped, his throat a little sore.

“Can I touch, love?” Louis asked, skimming his fingers down Harry’s chest and stomach.

“Please,” Harry said, now painfully aware of how hard he was.

The first grip of Louis’ hand on Harry’s cock had him gasping, but Harry stayed still, hovering over Louis on his hands and knees. Harry was already close, but then Louis began to talk.

“So naughty, H, wanting to blow me in that coffee shop. Do you like it when someone is watching?”

Harry moaned and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold off coming. Louis pumped his hand up and down Harry’s cock a little faster as he continued.

“Maybe next time I’ll fuck you in front of the window so everyone can see.”

The pressure was building, and Harry couldn’t hold off much longer. But Louis hadn’t told him to come yet.

“Or maybe I’ll let you ride me and won’t let you touch your cock. Make you come when I say.”

Harry buried his face in the crook of Louis’ neck and moaned louder.

“But you can do that, can’t you love? Come when I say?”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. All he could do was nod. Louis’ hand was flying over his cock now, over and over. The pleasure was building up so much that his muscles locked up and his toes curled.

“Then come for me, H. Now.”

Harry gasped as the final thread of control snapped and he came undone. Louis hand was still stroking his cock and his voice was murmuring things in his ear, and all around him was just  _ yes  _ and  _ Louis.  _ Harry came with a cry, his cock throbbing in Louis’ hand as the pleasure overwhelmed him. He could feel tears on his cheeks and his body was trembling with aftershocks as he tried to hover over Louis and not collapse. When Louis’ hand stilled on his cock, Harry moaned weakly and let his body sink down on the bed beside him, spent. He watched in dazed fascination as Louis licked a stripe of come off his finger where it had landed. When Louis turned to face him on the bed, Harry could only blink in fascination, eyes still wet with tears. He couldn’t remembered the last time he had cried from someone’s hand.

“Love, you okay?” Louis whispered, wiping Harry’s eyes with his clean hand.

“Y-yeah,” Harry said raggedly, trying to calm his breathing.

“You did so good, babe,” Louis praised, curling an arm around Harry’s spent frame and pulling him close. Louis pressed soft kisses to Harry’s cheeks, his hair, and anywhere he could reach.

Eventually, Harry’s heart rate slowed to a safer rate, and he nuzzled his face into Louis’ bare shoulder. “Oh my god.”

“I know,” Louis replied, sounding slightly dazed. “I think we just had a religious experience.”

“Was it the weed?” Harry asked, curling up at Louis’ side.

“No,” Louis replied with a smile in his voice. “It was all you, babe.”

“The things you  _ say _ ,” Harry groaned. “Jesus.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Louis admitted, petting Harry’s hair. 

“Was perfect,” Harry said, suddenly feeling sleepy.

“Sleep now?” Louis asked, as if reading his mind.

“Yes, please. You wore me out.”

Louis chuckled. “Same, love. Let’s get under the covers, okay?”

Slowly, clumsily, Harry disentangled from Louis long enough to crawl under the white duvet. Louis was back at his side in a second, turning Harry onto the side he preferred to sleep on and curling up at his back. Harry sighed contently and let Louis’ warmth lull him to sleep, feeling more cared for than he had felt in months.

*

Waking up next to Louis the next morning should have been more awkward. Harry gradually awoke to the feeling of an arm slung over his shoulder and a warm body pressed against his back. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling oddly at peace with the world. Sure, he and Louis had had sex while high, and then promptly fallen asleep without talking about it. There was that. But Harry didn’t feel bad; mostly he just felt hungry.

As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. Behind him, Harry heard a quiet laugh.

“Hungry?” Louis asked, his voice scratchy and soft.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. He snuggled back further into Louis’ arms, reluctant for the conversation that was sure to follow.

“Me too. I just woke up a minute ago, and I swear I was dreaming about donuts.”

Harry snorted a laugh. “Donuts and coffee sounds perfect.”

“Right?” Louis asked, idly trailing his fingers up and down Harry’s arm. “We have to get up eventually. But first…”

“First?” Harry asked.

“...first, I think we should talk about last night.”

Harry sighed, his spirits dwindling at the letdown that was coming. Louis must have woken up and regretted everything. That didn’t explain why he was still cuddling Harry though.

“Okay,” Harry relented. “So.”

“So.”

“We got high as fuck, in public,” Harry recalled. “I might have offered to blow you in the coffee house.”

Louis giggled. “Shit, I forgot about that. You did, didn’t you?”

Harry rolled around in the cage of Louis’ arms until he was facing him. “Did I mention we were high as fuck?”

Louis turned on his side, so that now they were facing each other. “Regrets?” he asked, suddenly serious.

Harry thought about if for a moment, then shook his head. “None. You?”

“Just one,” Louis sighed.

Suddenly, Harry felt as if his entire world hinged on what Louis would say next.

“I kind of regret not talking first,” Louis admitted, meeting Harry’s eyes with hesitation. “I mean, god, I didn’t ask if you were seeing anyone, or if you were sure you wanted to do it. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Harry said with a slight frown, “we were a little high; not incapacitated. And for the record, I’m not seeing anyone. Are you?”

“No,” Louis replied with a small smile. “I would never…”

“Neither would I,” Harry interjected. “I know. Are we okay?”

“I...think so,” Louis mused. “I woke up really happy, H. And that hasn’t happened in a while.”

Harry smiled. “I know exactly what you mean. Damn.”

“What?”

“This communication thing. It’s kind of scary.”

“Don’t I know it,” Louis quipped, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Harry’s ear. “But worth it?”

“Definitely worth it,” Harry replied, basking in the warmth of Louis’ answering smile.

“So Amsterdam, day 2. What’s on the schedule?”

“Hmm,” Harry said, reaching back for his phone to check the itinerary. “Looks like bike rides, canals, and a flower market. Pretty tame day.”

“Sounds perfect. Oh, but Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I might like you a little bit--”

Harry scoffed and opened his mouth to reply, but Louis cut him off.

“...but I still call first shower.” And with that, Louis sat up in bed, stretched lazily, and then winked over his shoulder before strolling towards the bathroom and shutting the door. Completely naked.

Harry was going to have a heart attack, he was sure. But first, he was going to finish this trip out strong and do everything possible to win Louis back. How hard could it be?

*

Really fucking hard, was the answer to that as Harry discovered later that morning. For one thing, Louis’ earlier clinginess seemed to have washed away with his shower. He was either chatting with Bob about the flower market, or joking with Ruth and James about something, or going for another cup of tea. For all intents and purposes, it was as if they were starting all over.

Maybe that’s what Louis had in mind, though. Halfway through their bike tour of the city, Louis came to a stop and remarked, “So, if this is our first date, how do you plan to impress me? Besides not falling off your bike.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Louis’ innocent expression. “I impressed you once; I can do it again.”

“Did you impress me, though? Or was I just endeared by your knock-knock jokes and curly ways?”

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from coming. “Excuse you, but my jokes are hilarious.”

“Harry.”

“What? They are. Here, listen to this one--”

But Louis was already pedaling away, giggling hysterically. Clearly, this was going to take a little more work than Harry had initially planned.

*

Lunch after the bike ride was a group affair, and Harry and Louis ended up eating with James and Ruth, who were having a ball.

“Amsterdam is so much more exciting than I remembered,” Ruth confessed, taking a sip of a fruity cocktail. It was a little early for mixed drinks, even for Harry, but wasn’t Ruth the one who had said YOLO?

“What have you guys been up to while you’re here?” Louis asked, giving Harry the side-eye and a grin.

“Just sightseeing, really. But I heard there’s a great gay bar here, and I’ve always wanted to go. James, doesn’t it sound like fun?”

James raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. “Why not? If you really want to go, we’ll go, dear.”

Ruth clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, what fun! Won’t you two join us tonight?”

Harry and Louis exchanged glances as if to say, how much trouble can senior citizens get into abroad?

“Harry? Up to you,” Louis offered, expression giving nothing away.

“I mean...I don’t see why not,” Harry replied. “We’ll keep an eye on you, make sure you have fun.”

“It’s settled, then!” Ruth exclaimed with a bright smile. “I’m going to wear my purple tracksuit.”

Harry caught Louis’ eye and grinned. It wasn’t a direct move to win Louis back, but who said they couldn’t have an adventure along the way?

*

“I just don’t see why I have to close my eyes,” Harry protested an hour later, near the Bloemmarkt, or flower market. Louis was leading him by the hand along the side of the canal, taking him god knows where.

“It’s a surprise,” Louis insisted for the fifth time, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Don’t open them until I tell you.”

Harry sighed, but kept his eyes closed. “Just don’t lead me right into the canal.”

“Ha. I know you can swim.”

After lunch, Louis had spent a few minutes on his phone researching the flower market, refusing to answer any questions from Harry. Harry could practically see the gears turning in Louis’ head as he scrolled through his phone, looked up with a bright smile, and then exclaimed, “Follow me!”

Now Louis was leading Harry down a path along the canal--he had told Harry that much--in search of something.

“Tulip, tulip, tulip...more tulips, Jesus...aha!”

Louis came to an abrupt halt and turned Harry’s shoulders to face the other way.

“I just want you to know,” Louis said, “how hard it is to find these in the tulip capital of the world. Open your eyes.”

Harry opened his eyes and gasped. In front of him, amidst rows and rows of tulips, were dozens of fresh, cheerful sunflowers. He felt an odd fluttering in his chest at the knowledge that Louis had thought of this. Slowly, Harry shook his head and then turned to face Louis.

“How did you…?”

Louis grinned and shrugged. “I have my ways. Do you want to take a look?”

“Of course,” Harry said with a bright smile. “Let me take a picture.”

“Well, I was hoping you would pick one out to take home, but go ahead and take a photo first.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the sweet gesture. Louis just shrugged again and offered him a warm smile. Harry was too distracted to take any decent photos, but he tried. Afterwards, at Louis’ request, Harry selected a long-stemmed sunflower from the bunch. While Louis paid the market worker, Harry smiled down at the flower.

“Flowers on our first date?” Harry asked with a grin.

Louis nodded and mirrored his smile. “A flower for my favorite sunflower.”

“That’s actually really sweet,” Harry said, feeling his cheeks flush. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Louis replied, reaching out to touch the silky flower petals. “You picked a good one.”

Harry looked up with a private smile. “Yes, I did.” He didn’t know if Louis would catch his meaning, but from the way Louis ducked his head and blushed, he surely did.

*

Wandering the canals a few minutes later, Harry was humming happily and smiling down at his sunflower. Every once in a while, he would feel Louis’ eyes on him and turn to find him smiling a private smile.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Louis remarked. “Was just thinking, not that this is a competition to see who can impress the other more, but I’m totally winning.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he stopped in his tracks. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, your bike ride was scenic. Very lovely. But I think I upped the stakes with the flower market.”

Harry thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “I see where you’re coming from. But remember, the day isn’t over. Somewhere in these random canals, something romantic awaits. You’ll see.”

Louis just grinned and patted Harry on the shoulder. “I’m ready for adventure. Let’s go.”

A few moments later, they passed a cafe. Harry looked at the display in the picture window, then did a double take.

“What the hell,” he asked Louis, “is a stroopwafel?”

Louis turned and saw Harry frozen in place. He shrugged and walked back to where Harry was staring thoughtfully into the cafe window. 

“No idea. Some sort of waffle, I guess?” Louis replied, staring into the window.

“I think we should check it out,” Harry said. “I’ve got this feeling we should stop.”

“Okay. By all means, follow your gut.”

Inside the cheerful cafe, a young woman behind the counter greeted them. Harry stared at the menu, then walked up to the counter.

“Hello,” he began. “We were wondering what you could tell us about the stroopwafels.”

The young woman beamed. “Ah, you haven’t tried one before? Well, you are in luck. Please, have a seat. I will bring it to you.”

With that, the young woman went about preparing simple white plates and some sort of pastry that Harry could only guess at. He and Louis sat down at a vacant table to wait.

“I like this spontaneous, adventurous side of you,” Louis mused as they waited.

Harry grinned. “Something about traveling just brings it out in me, I guess.”

“Then we should travel more often,” Louis replied with a sparkle in his eye.

“We still have a few days left to go on our Farewell Tour,” Harry joked.

Louis snorted a laugh. “Turns out the Sunset Tour is a blast. Who knew?”

A moment later, the energetic young woman returned with two plates and a smile.

“Gentlemen, this is our famous stroopwafel. We have a cookie waffle with a creamy caramel center. Can I interest you in some coffee as well?” she asked.

Harry and Louis agreed and ordered coffee, and the woman nodded and left them with a courteous, “Enjoy!”

Harry looked at Louis, who shrugged. “I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing we’ve eaten, even on this trip. Why not?”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Harry and Louis bit into the unusual pastries and raised their eyebrows. Either they were fresh from the oven, or the young woman had heated them up, but either way, the pastries were pleasantly warm. 

“Oh my god,” Louis said around a large bite. “The caramel is melting in my mouth.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Delicious.”

They polished off their stroopwafels in no time, and the young woman returned with a tray and a knowing smile. In addition to the coffee, she had brought two more pastries. Harry and Louis thanked her and promptly dug in.

“So this was a great idea,” Louis said around a mouthful of waffle. “Wow.”

“Now who’s winning?” Harry joked with a wink.

Louis pondered that for a moment. “I mean...the caramel center is legendary. I’ll give you that.”

Harry grinned. “I just had a hunch this was the place.”

“The place?”

“Yep. The place to blow your socks off.”

“Consider them knocked well off,” Louis replied with a bright smile. He sipped his coffee happily. “Bet this place wasn’t in your guidebook though.”

Harry snorted a laugh. “The guidebook has its limitations. I admit it.”

“But look how helpful they’ve been so far,” Louis replied. “Good call smuggling your library books out of the country.”

Harry raised his coffee in salute. “Cheers to that. Now, I believe we need to head back and get ready for an evening with our favorite senior citizens.”

Louis rolled his eyes but smiled. “Oh god. I can’t believe we’re taking them to a gay bar.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Harry asked.

“Don’t say that,” Louis said. “Never say that. Ruth is already YOLO-ing it up today.”

“Then it’s time for us to join in,” Harry replied. “You’ll see. It’ll be fun.”

*

Two hours later, a perplexed barman was staring at the four of them in confusion. 

“Can I...help you?”

Harry resolutely did not look at Louis; instead, he patted Ruth on the back and asked her what she’d like to drink.

“Oh, I think a mojito would be lovely!” Ruth replied with a bright smile. “James?”

“I’m going to stick with water for now, dear,” James said with a wry smile.

“Well, I think I’ll have a Corona for now, and Harry will have…?” Louis asked, turning to face him.

“I’m with Ruth on this one,” Harry said with a smile. “Mojito, please.”

The barman shrugged and began to prepare their drinks, while Louis opened a tab. Harry turned to Ruth and patted her on the shoulder. “We’re gonna have fun tonight, okay?”

“I know we will,” Ruth said, eyes sparkling behind her thick bifocals. “I’m so excited. And look--there’s karaoke!”

Louis overheard Ruth and winked at Harry. “Karaoke, hmm? Got any songs picked out?”

Harry tried to act casual, but his mind was already spinning with possibilities. “Maybe. Guess you’ll see.”

Louis grinned and nodded. “I guess so. C’mon, let’s grab a table.”

The group of four crossed the floor to a table in the corner with a view of the karaoke stage. It was still early, so no one was singing yet. But Harry suspected it was just a matter of time until that changed.

“So, Harry,” James said, settling down across the table from him. “How are you liking Amsterdam so far?”

Harry tried valiantly not to blush at the memories from yesterday with Louis. “Um, I think we’re both having a great time,” he finally settled on saying. “You?”

“Oh, yes. We try to have fun wherever we go,” James replied. He turned to stare at Ruth next to him. “Are you having fun, dear?”

“Of course!” Ruth cried, smiling widely. “And I’m about to have even more fun once I get this mojito.”

Harry and Louis exchanged glances and smiled. “Don’t worry, Ruth,” Louis said with a smirk. “Harry likes cocktails too.”

Harry kicked Louis’ foot under the table, but smiled politely. “I do, occasionally. But not as much as Louis likes to sing karaoke.”

Louis’ jaw dropped as he turned to face Harry. “Excuse you? Me, singing karaoke?”

Harry’s gaze flashed across the table to Ruth and James. “I tease him all the time because he’s never sung karaoke before.”

“Never?” Ruth asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nope,” Louis replied firmly. “And I never will.”

“Never say never, Lou,” Harry said with a mischievous smile.

This time, Louis was the one to kick Harry under the table.

*

By the time Harry had finished his mojito and switched to margaritas, Louis had convinced Ruth to dance with him. The alcohol was buzzing warmly in Harry’s veins, and he smiled fondly as the two made their way to the dance floor. He pulled out his phone to take a photo, confident Louis would want to see this in the morning. 

Sia’s “Cheap Thrills” was playing in the bar as Harry watched the unusual couple laugh and dance.

“Get a picture for me, will you?” James asked, watching his wife twist and jive on the dance floor. “This should go in our travel album.”

“No problem,” Harry said with a laugh, taking a few more photos of Louis and Ruth.

Harry had lost count of how many beers Louis had ordered, but he wasn’t complaining. Louis was dancing and laughing and appeared to be having the time of his life. Harry didn’t realize he had a dopey smile on his face until James caught his eye.

“I still look at my Ruth the same way, fifty years later,” James commented, sipping his water. “When you love someone like that, it’s for life I think.”

Harry blushed and looked down at his nearly-empty margarita. “I think I agree.”

James reached across the table and patted Harry on the hand. “We do crazy things for the ones we love, don’t we? Like going to bars in different cities and dancing like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Or saving for months and months to afford a trip like this,” Harry said. “It was a surprise. You should have seen his face when I told him about the tickets.”

“Something tells me that was a memorable conversation,” James chuckled. “But I’m sure he was glad to say yes.”

“I don’t know,” Harry laughed a little nervously. “He took some convincing.”

“Most things do,” James replied with a mysterious smile. “But it’s worth it in the end.”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly, watching Louis spin Ruth on the dance floor. “I think it is.”

*

A steady stream of performers had graced the small karaoke stage when Louis turned to Harry with a sneaky grin. “By the way, I signed you up for a song earlier. Ruth helped me choose.”

“You what?!” Harry asked, jaw dropping. “Which song?”

“Nope, it’s a surprise,” Louis replied, shaking his head emphatically.

“Oh god,” Harry groaned, taking another sip of margarita number three. Or four. Who was counting?

“It’ll be fun; don’t worry,” Louis assured him, patting him on the back. “You’re up for it.”

“Always up for it,” Harry remarked with a sly smile.

Louis grinned and rolled his eyes at the double entendre. “Noted. Now get ready, I think you’re up soon.”

When the DJ called Harry up to the stage and handed him a mic, Harry found Louis’ amused expression in the crowd and tried to give his most threatening look. Louis just laughed. Then the music started and lyrics appeared on the screen in front of Harry, and he groaned.

Louis had signed him up for “Sorry Not Sorry” by Demi Lovato. Harry was going to kill him. But first, he had to kill this song. The crowd in the bar watched him curiously for the first few bars, and some turned back to their drinks and conversation, but a few clapped along. By the time Harry got to the chorus, Louis was giggling hysterically and Ruth was clapping along obliviously.

_ Now payback is a bad bitch, and baby I’m the baddest _

_ You’re fucking with a savage, can’t have this, can’t have this. _

Harry flashed back to a crowded dance floor in Cologne with Louis grinding up against him. The kiss that that led to was one of the top five of Harry’s life.

_ Being so bad got me feeling so good,  _ Harry sang, really getting into it now. He swayed to the music and really poured everything he had into the performance. From their table, Louis and Ruth were clapping and bopping along to the music. By the time Harry finished the last chorus, a few people in the crowd were applauding. Harry took a dramatic bow, then left the stage.

Louis and Ruth cheered and whistled as Harry strode back to their table. 

“You’re dead,” Harry mouthed to Louis, who just gave him a shit-eating grin and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, Harry, that was fantastic!” Ruth exclaimed when he made it back to the table. “You’re a natural!”

Harry blushed a pecked a kiss to Ruth’s cheek. “Thank you. Does that mean you’re going next?”

Ruth giggled. “Oh, dear, no. Besides, I don’t want to steal Louis’ thunder.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he turned to face Louis, who was still grinning.

“Are you singing?” Harry asked, totally shocked.

“Maybe,” Louis shrugged nonchalantly.

Just then, the DJ announced Louis’ name, and Louis winked at Harry before finishing his beer and walking to the stage.

“Oh my god,” Harry said breathlessly to no one in particular. “He’s really doing it.”

Louis took the offered mic from the DJ, then tapped it to make sure it was on.

“Hi, my name is Louis,” Louis said in introduction, “and this one is for Harry.”

A few people clapped in the crowd, and then the lights dimmed and music began to play. When Louis began to sing, Harry felt a huge smile spread across his face.

_ Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road _

_ Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go _

_ So make the best of this test and don’t ask why _

_ It’s not a question but a lesson learned in time _

Several people, including Harry and oddly enough, James, sang along for the next few lines:

_ It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right _

_ I hope you had the time of your life _

Across the crowded bar, people were swaying along and singing. And as for Louis, his soft tenor voice was made for singing. Harry had never heard him sing in public before, and the moment felt surreal. But Harry took his words to heart as Louis completed the song: 

_ I hope you had the time of your life. _

And yeah, Harry thought, staring at Louis on the stage and thinking back on this trip so far, he definitely was having the time of his life.

Louis returned to their table to loud applause from Harry, Ruth, and James. Under the dim bar lights, his eyes were midnight blue and his cheeks were faintly flushed. Reasonable, Harry thought, as he had just sang karaoke to a bar full of people for the first time. When Louis sat down at the table, Harry’s open arms were waiting for him.

“Lou, you did it!” Harry cried, wrapping Louis in a tight hug. “Oh my god.”

“Were you surprised?” Louis asked, going easily into the hug.

“Of course I was!” Harry exclaimed, squeezing Louis tighter. “You were awesome!”

“I don’t know about that,” Louis said modestly as he pulled back to look at the group.

“Oh, Louis,” that was wonderful!” Ruth cheered, lifting her mojito in salute. “Did you see everyone clapping and singing along?”

“Really nice voice, Louis,” James added with a smile. “And great song choice.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Louis replied, smiling so wide that crinkles appeared by his eyes. “I just thought, you know, we should all be having the time of our lives.”

“We are, Lou. Thanks to you,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek without even thinking.

“Thanks, love,” Louis said. “By the way, you killed that song.”

“Sorry Not Sorry, Lou? Really?” Harry asked indignantly.

“I thought it was fitting. And you totally killed it. I think the best part was when you said you were a bad bitch in front of the whole bar.”

Harry giggled, pleasantly buzzed, and shrugged. “Sorry, not sorry.”

“You know I recorded that, right?” Louis asked with a mischievous grin. “Thought Gemma and Niall needed to see that one for sure.”

“Oh my god, Lou. Seriously?”

“Yup. You can thank me later. Now, who’s up for another drink?”

Harry followed Louis to the bar for the next margarita he really didn’t need, feeling like something groundbreaking had just happened in that bar. To the casual onlooker, it was just another guy singing to Green Day onstage. But to Harry, it was kind of everything. 

*

“I love this bar,” Harry announced to the table at large a few minutes later, words a little slurred from a mixture of tequila and Louis. “What’s it called again?”

Louis laughed and rolled his eyes. “Taboo, babe. Try to keep up.”

“To Taboo and good friends,” Harry proposed, raising his glass in a toast.

“Taboo and good friends!” Ruth, James, and Louis exclaimed.

“I’m so glad we came out tonight,” Ruth said, a little starry-eyed as she leaned against James. “What fun!”

“It’s still not too late to sing karaoke, Ruth,” Louis teased.

“Maybe next time, boys,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, I think we should be getting back to the hotel. We have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh god,” Harry groaned, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. Louis wordlessly wrapped his arm around Harry.

“Where to next?” Louis asked curiously.

“Brussels!” Ruth cheered. “Speaking of fun.”

“Is it as fun as Amsterdam?” Harry asked, lifting his head an inch.

“Everywhere you go is fun, with the right company,” James said wisely. The rest of the group raised their glasses in salute.

“We better get to bed babe,” Louis murmured in Harry’s ear. “Ready to go?”

Harry took one more look around their table, at James who was sipping his water with lemon serenely, and at Ruth who was attempting to take a selfie with James with her flip phone, and then at Louis, who was staring at him with a fond smile. And not for the first time that trip, Harry felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.

“Yes,” Harry replied a beat later. “Let’s go to Brussels.”


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

 

Brussels

 

“Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”

\--Confucius

 

The three hour train ride from Amsterdam to Brussels passed by fairly quickly for Harry, who was absorbing everything he could about the next city from his guidebook. Knowing virtually nothing about Brussels, he truly was starting at the beginning. Next to him, Louis was checking his work emails and occasionally muttering curses to no one in particular, so Harry let him be. 

Meanwhile, Harry had sunshine streaming in through the window beside him, a charged battery for his phone and digital camera, and Alice Merton on for music. He was bopping along quietly, minding his own business, when Louis pulled out one of his earbuds to get his attention.

“Hey,” Louis whispered. He put the earbud in his own ear. “What are you listening to?”

“It’s called ‘No Roots,’” Harry replied. “Pretty appropriate for our travels, I think. What’s up?”

Louis sighed and shook his head. “Work is blowing up my email, and I am so not ready to go back.”

Harry quirked a smile. “Good thing we’ve got a few days left, then. Procrastinate a bit; it won’t hurt.”

“We’ll see,” Louis said with a small smile. “What are you reading?”

“Everything I can about Brussels,” Harry replied. “Since I know nothing about it.”

“Learning anything interesting?”

“Well,” Harry said, flipping through the pages, “for one thing, it’s bilingual, so the signs are all in Dutch and French.”

“Cool,” Louis replied. “Two languages I don’t speak. We’re off to a good start.”

Harry chuckled and nodded. “Right? I guess the French will be good practice for our last stop though.”

“Paris?” Louis asked.

“Yes,” Harry answered with a bright smile. “I’m so excited.”

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” Louis joked, patting Harry on the leg. “So, what’s the verdict? Can we see everything there is to see in Brussels in two days?”

“Knowing this tour group,” Harry said, “I’m sure we can.”

“Well, don’t forget, we need to have our second date here,” Louis reminded him with a smile. “I’m expecting nothing but the best.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked. “What happened to the three day rule?”

Louis snorted a laugh. “Ha. Like we followed that last time. Remember?”

Harry remembered.

_ It was the morning after their first date, and Harry was pacing the floor in the flat he shared with Niall. He had lost count of how many laps he’d made around the flat, but Niall was amused. _

_ “Harry, mate, just text him,” Niall said from his spot on the lumpy couch, where he was crunching on Doritos. _

_ “And say what?” Harry asked fretfully. “Aren’t you supposed to wait three days or something?” _

_ “Mate, this is a new age. You can call or text whenever you want to,” Niall replied. _

_ “I don’t know what to say,” Harry admitted, picking at his lower lip as he stared down at his phone. His phone, which had not received any messages from Louis yet. Maybe that was a bad sign. _

_ “Say, ‘Hey, I had fun last night. Want to meet up later this week?’” _

_ “What if he didn’t have fun, though?” Harry asked. “What if he was just letting me down easy?” _

_ “You said he laughed so hard, he almost fell off his chair,” Niall reminded. _

_ “Well, yeah,” Harry admitted with a small smile. “But he was laughing because I did something embarrassing. That doesn’t count.” _

_ “Okay, well, you need to do something quick, because you’re making me a nervous wreck with all this pacing. Carpe diem and all that shit.” _

_ “Okay,” Harry said, bracing himself. “I’m gonna text him.” _

_ “Good,” Niall said, eating another Dorito. _

_ “I’m just gonna say...holy shit!” _

_ Just as Harry went to type a good morning message to Louis, his phone dinged, signaling a new text. _

_ “It’s from Louis,” Harry breathed, eyes wide. “Oh my god.” _

_ “What did he say?” Niall asked, standing to look over Harry’s shoulder at the phone screen. _

_ “He said, ‘Good morning! Had a great time last night. How are you?’” _

_ “Well?” Niall asked patiently. “Tell him how you are.” _

_ “Niall. I can’t exactly tell him I’m a nervous fucking wreck and I want to drown myself in your bag of Doritos.” _

_ Niall had the audacity to laugh. “Then I’d stick with ‘good morning. I’m good.’” _

_ Harry sighed and shook his head, but began typing a reply. Niall watched curiously as he composed the message, reading it as Harry typed. _

_ “Good morning...I am...great, thanks...how are you? I had...a great...time...too.” _

_ “Okay,” Niall said, patting Harry on the shoulder with his greasy Doritos hand. “Not bad.” _

_ “Let’s see if he replies,” Harry murmured, staring intently at his phone. Moments later, little grey dots signaled that Louis was typing. _

_ “I can’t read it, Niall,” Harry confessed, turning his head away. “I can’t do it. What did he say?” _

_ “He said,” Niall replied, pretending to read from the screen, “that you’re a huge twat waffle and should ask him out already.” _

_ “He did not say that!” Harry cried indignantly, quickly looking back at the screen. He read Louis’ actual message, then smiled. _

_ “Was thinking about checking out the Irish pub down the street later this week. Are you in?” _

_ “Jesus, finally,” Niall exclaimed. “Yes, you’re in. Tell him.” _

_ “Okay, okay,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I’m telling him.” Harry typed an enthusiastic reply, then hit the send button and held his breath. Louis’ answer came moments later. _

_ “Sounds great! PS) Tell Niall I said hi :)” _

_ Harry looked up at Niall with a bewildered expression. “How did he know--” _

_ Niall laughed and thumped Harry on the back proudly. “You picked a good one, H. I approve.” _

_ Harry’s phone dinged again, and Harry looked down eagerly to see Louis’ latest message. _

_ “PS) You’re cute when you’re confused.” _

_ Harry’s jaw dropped and he typed back quickly. “Are you some kind of psychic? How did you know?” _

_ Louis simply typed back a winky face and the words, “see you soon xx”. _

_ Harry tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he saved Louis’ contact as “Psychic Louis” with the sun emoji. He guessed Niall was right about the three day rule after all. _

Now, on a train halfway to Belgium, Harry shook his head fondly at the memory. His and Louis’ relationship had been unconventional from the beginning, so why couldn’t they have another chance on this trip? Harry side-eyed Louis to find him scrolling contently through his camera roll, and vowed to make every moment with Louis count.

*

The tour group arrived at the Hilton Brussels Grand Place in time to drop off their luggage and then head to lunch. The hotel, which was centrally located, was everything Harry expected from a Hilton. His and Louis’ room was a study in color contrasts: a crisp, white king bed, with a deep navy accent wall to separate the bathroom from the living space. The accent wall featured a see-through fireplace, of all things, which Harry found fascinating. The bathroom had a large soaker tub and gleaming stainless steel appliances. Altogether, the place gave off the impression of sophistication and comfort to the weary travel group.

Lunch was a sampling of seafood at the Lobster House, located near their hotel. Bob suggested they eat plenty, because they had a busy afternoon ahead. Harry and Louis exchanged mildly alarmed glances and ate as much as they could.

Their first stop on the tour of Brussels was the nearby Grand Place. According to Harry’s guidebook, the square topped any itinerary for the city. It was a short but pleasant walk to the square from the restaurant, and Harry and Louis fell into step together.

“I’m sure Bob will give us a detailed explanation, but what does your book say about this place?” Louis asked.

“Interestingly, it says that the city hall in the square was the only building to survive the bombing of the French in 1695, although it was their main target,” Harry said with a smile. “This square is the place to go in Brussels, apparently.”

“Cool,” Louis nodded. “Let’s take a look.”

“Okay, folks,” Bob said as the tour group approached the square, which was bustling with tourists. “In addition to being considered one of the most beautiful squares in Europe, the Grand Place is also an UNESCO world heritage site since the ‘90s. In 1695, a majority of the square was destroyed by the French, and it was rebuilt by the city’s guilds in the following four years.”

Bob gestured to the square before him with open arms. “Why don’t we all explore for a few minutes, and then maybe we’ll have a surprise or two?”

Harry had no idea what surprise Bob had in mind, but he followed Louis into the crowded square. The first word that came to mind looking around at all the buildings bordering the square was imposing. Some of the edifices were gilded with gold accents and numbers, while others stretched so high into the sky that Harry had trouble fitting it into a single frame with his camera. The town hall was bigger than he could have imagined. And yet although it was an unfamiliar place to Harry, something about the square seemed welcoming. Harry knew, staring at all the buildings framing the square, that he could spend several hours exploring here rather than minutes.

Harry lost track of Louis for a moment, and found him a while later chatting with Ruth and James. When Harry approached the group, Ruth beamed at him.

“Harry! What do you think of the Grand Place?” she asked.

“It’s really gorgeous,” Harry replied, holding up his camera. “I’ve been trying to take as many photos as I can.”

“I was just telling Louis that you absolutely must come back in August sometime. Every couple years in August, this whole square is filled with the most beautiful begonias. People come from all over to see it.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and glanced at Louis. “Sounds like we’ll have to check it out someday.”

Louis smiled and sent Harry a private wink that made Harry blush. He opened his mouth to reply to Harry, but just then Bob wandered over.

“Hey, folks! Glad I found you. We’re meeting up across the square over there for a treat.”

Harry met Louis’ gaze and mouthed the word “treat” with a hopeful smile. Objectively, he knew they had eaten plenty of treats on this trip, but what could one more hurt?

The surprise turned out to be a Godiva chocolate store in the square, and Harry could have hugged Bob when he saw the elation on Louis’ face. The first display they came to was full of chocolate-covered strawberries, and Louis turned to Harry with a hopeful smile.

“If I get one, will you help me eat it?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Better get two, just in case.”

That’s how, a few minutes later, Harry and Louis ended up eating two dozen chocolate strawberries on their first day in Brussels.

“Oh my god,” Louis sighed happily, biting into a plump strawberry. “Harry.”

“I know,” Harry replied around a mouthful of his own. “Amazing. Reminds me of that gelato in Rome.”

“Ooh!” Louis exclaimed, eyes wide. “I forgot about the gelato! Some secret family recipe, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Harry said with a content smile. “I guess we just have a knack for finding delicious things.”

“So far, Brussels is a win,” Louis quipped, giving a thumbs up.

Harry snapped a picture; he couldn’t help it. He caught the moment Louis had given the thumbs up, while opening his mouth for a large bite of chocolate strawberry. Harry looked at the perturbed look on Louis’ face, and then his photo, and started to giggle.

“You’re lucky I’m in my happy place right now,” Louis warned, sucking chocolate off his fingers in a borderline-obscene way. “Or I would totally kick your ass.”

“Right,” Harry scoffed. “I’m so scared.”

“You should be. I’d hate to murder you in front of all these innocent bystanders.”

“You wouldn’t,” Harry dared him with a smile. “You’re in chocolate heaven.”

“Fuck yes, I am,” Louis sighed happily, leaning back on the bench they were sitting on and closing his eyes. “Feeling very zen right now.”

“Zen enough to hit up the next place on Bob’s list?” Harry asked.

“Sure, why?” Louis replied, cracking one eye open.

“Because he appears to be rounding people up to move on.”

Harry grabbed the wrappers their treats had come in, and took them to a nearby rubbish bin. Then he wandered back over to where Louis looked well on his way to a nice nap in the middle of Brussels.

“Time to go, Lou,” he said, patting Louis on the shoulder.

“Where to?”

“Let’s go find out,” Harry said.

Together, they wove their way through the crowd of tourists to where Bob was corralling the tour group. They wandered over in time to hear him giving instructions for the next site.

“Why don’t we take a nice stroll through the main park here in the city center and just enjoy the afternoon? After that, we can meet at the exit and head to the Atomium.”

Harry and Louis fell in line behind some of the tour group members, who were moving a little slowly after the Godiva chocolate treats in the square. Harry could see Ruth and James walking a bit further ahead, chatting with the other senior citizens. They were holding hands as they walked, and for some reason, it made Harry dare to hope.

“Look,” Harry said, nudging Louis’ elbow as he gestured towards the couple.

Louis followed his gaze and smiled fondly. “Couple goals! Wow.”

“I kind of want to take a picture. Would that be creepy?”

“Hmm,” Louis mused. “I don’t think so, no.”

Harry lifted his camera as stealthily as he could and lined up the shot of Ruth and James strolling hand in hand. He snapped the photo, then turned to see Louis smiling at him.

“What?” he asked, worried he might have the remnants of chocolate on his face.

“Nothing,” Louis said, shaking his head. “I’m glad we met them. Glad we came on this trip.”

“Me too,” Harry said with a thoughtful smile. “Although you should’ve seen your face when we walked into that informational meeting in Rome and saw a sea of senior citizens staring back at us.”

Louis laughed and nudged Harry in the ribs. “Like you weren’t surprised?”

“I was, I was,” Harry admitted. “But your face, oh my god.”

“So I was a little taken aback,” Louis confessed with a shrug. “So were they, probably.”

“I think at one point you turned to look at me and said, ‘You’re dead.’”

“Did I?” Louis laughed. “Well, lucky for you I changed my mind.”

Harry and Louis joked as they walked towards the park, and were pleasantly surprised when they entered it to find that the park was spacious, green, and not swamped with tourists.

“Want to explore?” Louis asked, deviating from the tour group ahead with a sparkle in his eye.

“Sure,” Harry said, taking one last look at the group. “Let’s go.”

For the next half hour, Harry and Louis strolled the various walkways of the park, observing fountains from the 1700s and lime trees. After walking for a while, Harry stopped in a grassy patch of sunlight and sat down. Louis chuckled but followed suit. Soon, they were sprawled on the grass, resting their feet and shooting the breeze.

“So, Brussels is nice,” Louis said, plucking a dandelion from the grass and examining it.

“It really is,” Harry said from his spot next to Louis. He was taking advantage of the sunlight, leaned back on his elbows with his head tipped back and eyes closed. And Harry was perfectly content in that moment.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Finally, Louis broke the silence.

“Look at you, H. You really are like a sunflower.”

Harry cracked one eye open and glanced at Louis. “You think so?”

“Sure,” Louis replied with a soft smile. “Basking in the sunlight, picture perfect. In fact,” he continued, reaching for Harry’s camera in the grass, “hold still.”

Harry huffed an amused sigh, but obeyed Louis’ instructions. A moment later, Louis lined up a shot and snapped the photo of Harry sprawled happily in the grass. He examined the photo on the digital camera screen, smiled, and then set the camera back down beside Harry.

“You could be one of those hippies hanging out in a pasture at Woodstock,” Louis commented.

Harry laughed and opened his eyes. “What?”

“Yeah, you know,” Louis shrugged, blushing a little now. “What’s the word? Timeless. You just have that ability, I guess. It’s cool to watch.”

Harry smiled and lay flat on his back, staring up at the clouds. “And what about you, in your cozy sweaters and cool aviators? You could be a time traveler for all I know.”

“That’s funny,” Louis murmured. “Hey, how about this. Where do you think we would have met in another time?”

“Like when? Woodstock?” Harry asked.

“Sure. So 1969, upstate New York. How do we meet?”

“Well,” Harry thought for a moment. “I’m there with Niall, looking to hear some great music and get high. We cut classes at our uni in America to take the road trip. I’m a little obsessed with Janis Joplin, so we make the trek to the festival to see her.”

“Okay,” Louis replied, smiling thoughtfully. “And me?”

“Hmm,” Harry mused. “You’re from California, and you hitchhiked the whole way to New York because you’re a Hendrix fan. We meet when I’m making daisy chains on the grass, singing along to “Piece of My Heart,” and you trip over my big feet.”

“Oops,” Louis chuckles, nudging Harry’s foot.

“Hi, I say then, and then our eyes meet. And I forget where I am, and how high I was planning on getting, and that Janis is finally onstage. All I see is your blue eyes.  _ Cerulean _ blue. And you just stare at me like I’m insane for a moment. Then what happens?”

“Well,” Louis mused, “I probably comment on the fine daisy chain you’re making, and suggest you make yourself a crown. Niall, the true gentleman that he is, offers me a beer, and I join you guys. Now Janis is singing, ‘Me and Bobby McGee.’”

“Love that song,” Harry smiled happily, watching the clouds drift overhead. “And how do we keep in touch, once we go back to uni and you return to California? No mobiles, no social media...what do we do?”

Louis thought about it, and then lay down next to Harry on the grass. “We write letters.”

“Like  _ The Notebook?” _ Harry asked.

“Yes. Only there’s no meddling family members or friends to keep us apart.”

“I like this story,” Harry said, leaning his head closer to Louis’ on the grass. What happens next?”

“Hmm. Well, eventually you graduate from uni and get a job as a photojournalist covering the war in Vietnam and the protests all over the country. And I get drafted.”

“What the fuck,” Harry mumbled. “Are you trying to make me cry?”

Louis chuckled and patted Harry’s hand. “The story’s not over. So, we both survive the war, because we’re lucky bastards. And we decide to meet up in New York City for New Year’s Eve. You want to stand in Times Square and watch the ball drop. So we save all our money for bus tickets, and meet on New Year’s there.”

Harry nodded and made what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, but didn’t comment.

“And it’s really fucking cold,” Louis continued, reaching out to lace his fingers through Harry’s. “Your hair is long like it is now, and we’ve both got some ridiculous tattoos, but I see you through the crowd and time just...stands still.”

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry murmured, wiping his eyes with his free hand. “Go on.”

“I don’t have any plans, really, but seeing you there, after all we’ve been through, gets my ass in gear. I kiss you, and then propose right there in Times Square. I don’t even have a ring for you.”

“But I say yes,” Harry whispers, squeezing Louis’ hand.

“You do. Of course, times being what they are, we can’t actually marry for some time. But we make it work. And maybe one day, when we’re old like Ruth and James, we decide to travel the world together. And it doesn’t matter whether we’re walking in the ruins in Rome, or wandering Venetian canals, or anything else; as long as we’re together, we’re happy.”

“Oh my god,” Harry sniffled, trying to wipe the tears streaming down his face. “Fuck.”

Louis turned to look at Harry and smiled fondly. “Aww, love. Don’t cry. It’s a happy story.”

“I know,” Harry huffed. “It’s just really sweet. You should write a novel.”

Louis snorted a laugh and squeezed Harry’s hand. “Only you would read it, likely.”

“I can’t believe you made me cry in a random park in Brussels,” Harry lamented. “Is my face all splotchy?”

Louis considered Harry’s face for a moment, then grinned. “A little. But you look lovely as always.”

Harry rolled his eyes, then smiled reluctantly. “I’m telling Ruth you made me cry.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

“After I told you the nicest story in the history of stories?” Louis asked, bewildered.

“Maybe. It was a pretty great story,” Harry admitted with a watery smile.

“Thanks,” Louis whispered, rubbing his thumb on the back of Harry’s hand where they were still connected. “My little sunflower.”

Harry laughed. “Do you want to make me cry again?”

“Nope,” Louis answered, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to Harry’s. “No more tears here.”

Harry felt warm all over at the sweet gesture, and smiled contently up at the sky. “We have to get up eventually, you know.”

Louis nodded thoughtfully. “We do. Five more minutes, though?”

“Sure,” Harry replied easily. “We’ve got time.”

*

Exiting the park a few minutes later, Harry and Louis found most of the tour group assembled. From there, Bob led them the short distance to view the Atomium.

“This one is a real sight, folks. It was originally constructed in 1958 Brussels World Fair, paying homage to the scientific progress of the times. Let’s go check it out,” Bob explained.

Harry shot Louis a confused look. “But what is it?”

Louis shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Their questions were answered when they arrived at the base of a huge sculpture surrounded by other tourists. Its sheer size commanded attention, and its shape was just bizarre enough to warrant a double take. Harry guessed the term “Atomium” had something to do with the word “atom,” which this sculpture resembled.

“I’m having flashbacks to chemistry class,” Louis said. He appeared to be on the same wavelength.

“What atom is it, I wonder?” Harry asked.

Louis had no idea either, so Harry consulted his guidebook and found that it was meant to be a unit cell of a crystal. When he shared that with Louis, he was impressed.

“That’s cool, H. You should take a picture.”

“Already on it. But look,” Harry replied, pointing to some tourists who appeared to be entering inside the sculpture. “Maybe we can see a view from the top?”

“Sure,” Louis agreed easily. “Can’t be as hard as those 509 steps in the cathedral in Cologne.”

Harry snorted a laugh and nodded. “Stand in front of it, and I’ll take your picture.”

Louis posed in front of the Atomium and smiled wide, and Harry snapped the photo. It was difficult to get the whole towering structure in the photo with Louis, but he managed. Afterwards, Harry and Louis wandered over to Bob to inquire about seeing the view from the top.

“Certainly, boys,” Bob said with a bright smile. “I see you’re adventurous. That’s wonderful. Why don’t you take the lift up to the top?”

“A lift, Harry,” Louis exclaimed as they walked towards the Atomium entrance. “Music to my ears.”

“Well, it looks like they also have stairs, if we’re as adventurous as Bob thinks…” Harry trailed off with a smirk.

“Oh, no. Nope. Not that adventurous.”

Harry agreed easily to the lift, so once inside, they waited their turn with a small group of tourists. The lift carried them up to the top sphere of the structure, where they found a restaurant and a panoramic view of Brussels.

Harry and Louis walked to one of the wide windows and looked down on the city. Among the sweeping views of the city of Brussels, they also had a wonderful view of some type of park below.

“Wait, is that a waterslide?” Louis asked, squinting into the distance.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Harry replied, impressed. “What kind of park is that?”

“I can’t tell...it doesn’t look like the park we were just in, though. Let me google it.”

Louis pulled out his phone and began searching, and Harry snapped a few pictures of the great view atop the Atomium. A moment later, Louis flashed Harry a smile.

“Got it,” he said. “You’ll never guess what it is.”

“What is it? Like a kids’ park?” Harry asked.

“Better,” Louis said. “It’s mini-Europe.”

Harry frowned and looked back down on the park. “I can’t make anything out.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Louis said with a glint in his eye.

“Oh god,” Harry groaned, smiling resignedly. “Are we actually going to mini-Europe?”

“I think we are,” Louis replied. “Want to grab a drink first?” he asked, gesturing towards the restaurant behind them.

“I think I’m gonna need it,” Harry joked, and let Louis lead him to the bar.

*

Mini-Europe was exactly what Harry would have pictured, if he had ever taken the time to consider it. It felt a little silly taking a photo of a miniature Eiffel Tower, but Harry had to hand it to the park’s creators--the details were amazing. There was a Grand Place replica, like they had just seen earlier that day, and a Big Ben, and a leaning tower of Pisa to name a few. Admittedly, most of the tourists were families with young children, but that didn’t dampen Harry and Louis’ spirits. Maybe it was the beer he had consumed with Louis in the restaurant, but Harry was enthralled. The park reminded him of walking through a dollhouse in a way.

“Look, Lou,” Harry said, pointing to a canal. “It’s the Venetian canal and the Doge’s palace I think.”

“Nice!” Louis exclaimed, pulling out his phone to take a photo. “Man, I loved Venice.”

“Says the chess champion,” Harry quipped, patting Louis on the shoulder.

“Hey, I held my own,” Louis replied in his defense. “Or maybe those older guys were taking it easy on me?”

“If we ever go back, we can ask,” Harry said. “Want to keep looking around?”

For another half hour, Harry and Louis explored the park. If they had stopped to admire every single structure there in detail, it would’ve taken hours. As it was, they figured it was time to get back with the Sunset Tours group soon. So they took a selfie in front of the miniature Eiffel Tower, then headed back to meet the group.

Some members were just exiting the Atomium, and Bob was chatting with others in front of the massive structure. Harry and Louis joined them in time to hear Bob explain that dinner was next.

“Where should we go for dinner?” Louis asked.

“We could look up good restaurants nearby, I guess,” Harry said, pulling out his phone.

“Good call. I’m kind of in the mood to get off the beaten path a little,” Louis replied.

That was how, half an hour later, Harry and Louis were standing in a little alley in central Brussels looking at a pub called Delirium. There was a small crowd outside the pub, but it had an authentic feel that Harry liked instantly.

Inside the spacious pub, the walls and ceiling were decorated with colorful vintage beer signs from all over. It was a little dimly lit, but the atmosphere was relaxed. A huge sign above the bar advertised just a few of the beers on tap. Harry and Louis exchanged glances, impressed, and decided to try a few local beers.

A couple minutes later, they carried their drinks to a vacant table. It was still fairly early, so the crowd wasn’t that large. But there were still enough people milling around inside to make things interesting. Harry lifted his beer in salute, and Louis smiled and tapped his glass against Harry’s.

“To adventure, wherever we go,” Harry said as a toast.

“To adventure!” Louis replied with a wide smile.

As they sipped their beers, Louis pulled out his phone to look at their trip photos so far. Harry could see across the table that Louis had taken dozens of pictures.

“Wow, Lou. How many did you take?” he asked.

“A few,” Louis shrugged nonchalantly. “Guess I caught the photography bug from you.”

Harry pulled his chair around the table to sit next to Louis so he could see the photos. And sure enough, starting with their selfie at the fountain in Piazza della Repubblica in Rome their first night, Louis had a ton of photos. Harry lost track of time as they scrolled through, remembering funny moments they’d had so far. They only stopped when Louis’ stomach growled and they realized they hadn’t eaten yet.

“Dinner?” Louis asked with a hopeful smile.

“I’m on it,” Harry replied, pulling out his phone. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm,” Louis said, thinking back on what they’d eaten recently. “You know, this may sound crazy, but I’m kind of craving Chinese.”

Harry grinned. “Leave it to you to want Chinese in Belgium. Okay, let me look.”

To his surprise, Harry soon found a restaurant nearby with Asian cuisine. They paid their tab at Delirium, then headed out into the pleasantly chilly evening. The restaurant, called Shao Shan, was close enough to walk to.

The dinner crowd was just starting to pick up, so Harry and Louis were glad to get a table quickly. They scanned their menus, but ultimately decided to ask the waitress what she recommended there. When she arrived, the waitress suggested calamari for their starter and the shrimp with steamed rice for their main course. That sounded great to Harry, so he and Louis took her recommendation and ordered.

While they waited, Harry and Louis checked the itinerary for the next day. Bob had scheduled what appeared to be a relatively relaxed day, mostly filled with observing the local culture rather than museum hopping. And that was fine with Harry. He loved a good museum, but at times their pace had been nearly frantic. This was a nice change.

“You know what we haven’t done yet?” Louis asked after a moment’s pause.

“What?”

“Eaten waffles here. It’s like a national food here, isn’t it?”

“I forgot all about that,” Harry said with a slight frown. “Maybe we can hit a cafe tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” Louis replied. “I love waffles.”

“I remember,” Harry said with a wry smile. “Chocolate chip, blueberry, and once I think there was peanut butter.”

Louis wrinkled his nose and laughed. “Okay, not my best idea.”

“Watching you eat a peanut butter waffle was worth the messy kitchen, though,” Harry recalled with a smile.

“Ha. Well, at least now I know I don’t like it,” Louis replied. “By the way, we should be practicing our French here.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “I don’t have a French phrasebook, so we’ll have to rely on google. But let’s try it. What do you already know?”

Louis pondered that for a moment. “I know ‘amor.’ And ‘bonjour.’ That’s about it. You?”

“Same, pretty much,” Harry said, a little dejectedly. “I never paid attention in my single French class in school.”

“Well, might as well learn now,” Louis replied. “How do you say, ‘I’d like a croissant’?”

Harry typed it into his phone. “Je voudrais un croissant.”

“That’s not so hard. We can do this,” Louis said confidently. “How about, ‘how much does it cost’?”

“Combien ca coute?” Harry translated. “Oh god, I have no idea how to say that right.”

“Let’s keep it simple, then,” Louis advised. “Try, ‘please pass the waffles.’”

“Passez les gaufres,” Harry answered. “That’s not too bad.”

By the time their food arrived, Harry and Louis were on a roll translating French. When the waitress placed their plates on the table, Louis thanked her with an enthusiastic “Merci!”

The food was, just as the waitress claimed, delicious. Harry and Louis dug into the calamari quickly, enjoying every bite.

“Do you think we’re gaining weight from all this food we’ve been eating?” Louis asked, taking another healthy bite of calamari.

“Nah,” Harry replied. “We’re walking a lot. I think we’ve burned it all off.”

“Cheers to that,” Louis said with a smile.

*

“Speaking of walking,” Harry said half an hour later, exiting the restaurant, “I’m a little sore for some reason. Back hurts.”

Louis rubbed Harry’s back briefly. “I know what you need.”

“A Swedish massage, and then a nap?”

“Ha. I don’t think the hotel has a masseuse on staff. But I have an idea,” Louis replied.

“Should I be worried?” Harry asked.

“Wait and be surprised.”

*

Harry’s interest was piqued by the time they arrived back at the Hilton. They entered their room, and Harry toed off his boots and sank down on the edge of the soft bed.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Louis warned.

“Why?”

“You’ll see,” Louis replied evasively, then promptly walked into the large bathroom and shut the door.

Harry ignored Louis’ instructions, just for a moment, he reasoned. He sprawled out on the comfortable bed and closed his eyes. He had no idea what was taking Louis so long, whatever he was doing. When the bathroom door clicked open, Harry cracked one eye open to find Louis standing in the doorway with arms crossed and an exasperated expression.

“I leave you alone for five minutes, and you fall asleep on me?” Louis teased.

“What are we doing?” Harry replied, sitting up slowly, feeling the strain in his back.

“Hop up and come see.”

Harry frowned grumpily as he slowly stood from a sitting position and shuffled towards the bathroom where Louis stood. When he reached Louis, Harry stopped.

“So I don’t do Swedish massage,” Louis said by way of explanation, “but I can run an awesome bath.”

Harry’s expression brightened. “Bath?”

“Yep,” Louis said with a proud smile. “Come and see.”

Once Harry followed Louis into the spa-like bathroom, he could see that the mirrors were steamed up from the heat emanating from the large, white soaker tub in the center of the room. And Louis hadn’t just run a simple bath.

“Bubbles?” Harry cried incredulously, turning to face Louis. “Really?”

“Really, really,” Louis replied. “Get in before it gets cold.”

“Aww, Lou, this is so nice,” Harry said, smiling fondly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, strip.”

Harry grinned and rolled his eyes, but he began to undress. He felt Louis’ eyes on him, and it gave Harry butterflies in his stomach.

“See something you like?” Harry joked as he stripped off his tight jeans.

“Obviously,” Louis replied, shaking his head fondly. “Now get in the bath.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Harry murmured, testing the water with his toes. “Oh, wow.”

Harry stepped one foot, then the other into the bath water, then smiled blissfully. He sat down in the foamy water and leaned back against the back of the tub. His eyes slid shut voluntarily, and he felt the tension in his back ebbing away.

“Good?” Louis guessed, leaning against the sink watching.

“Fantastic,” Harry corrected without opening his eyes. “Just missing one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You, clearly. Are you getting in?” Harry asked hopefully, cracking his eyes open.

Louis appeared to hesitate for a moment.

“Please, Lou?”

“Alright,” Louis relented. “Just for a minute.”

Harry watched with a relaxed smile as Louis undressed and tossed his clothes on top of Harry’s. Harry slid forward in the tub to make room for Louis behind him, and Louis chuckled.

“It’s like that, then?” he joked.

“It is,” Harry said. “Get in.”

Louis muttered something under his breath that Harry couldn’t hear, and then carefully stepped into the hot water behind Harry. When he sat down in the bubbly water, Louis sighed.

“Oh, this is nice,” he said, getting comfortable.

When Louis stretched his legs around either side of Harry, Harry leaned back until his back hit Louis’ chest. The water was so relaxing that Harry didn’t hesitate before resting his head back against Louis’ shoulder. A moment later, Harry felt Louis hands curve around his waist.

“This was a great idea,” Harry sighed contently.

“How’s your back?” Louis asked.

“Feeling much better.”

“Good. Now, don’t fall asleep,” Louis warned.

Harry snickered. “I’m in a tub with a gorgeous guy. Probably not going to fall asleep.”

“Mm, gorgeous, huh?” Louis asked.

“Very. And also thoughtful. And fun.”

“You can sweet talk me all you want, H,” Louis replied, patting Harry on the stomach, “but I’m not having sex with you in this bathtub.”

“Excuse you, but did I ask?” Harry scoffed.

“I could see the gears turning in your head,” Louis replied. “Do you remember the last time we tried it in a tub?”

“Ah, how could I forget,” Harry said with a wide grin. “Water was everywhere. We used all my towels cleaning it up. And I almost gave you a black eye.”

“Mhm, exactly,” Louis said, pinching Harry’s nipple. “We don’t need a repeat of that.”

Harry squirmed away from Louis’ pinching fingers. “Fair point. Let’s just relax.”

“Good plan,” Louis said. “Be good and I’ll wash your hair.”

“I’ll be good,” Harry promised quickly.

“I know you will.”

There was a comfortable silence for a few moments as the two relaxed in the warm water. Eventually, Harry spoke.

“Hey, Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“Who won this date?”

“Hmm,” Louis mused, reaching for the shampoo. “I say we call it a draw.”

*

Harry knew something was wrong when he woke up in the hotel bed just a few hours later. For one thing, as he could see through the window they forgot to close, it was the middle of the night. And for another, he was cold. Harry shouldn’t be cold with Louis curled up next to him. Upon closer examination, though, Harry realized with a start that Louis wasn’t in bed at all. Harry squinted at his phone screen and saw it was 3 am. Louis’ side of the bed was cold. 

The longer Harry lay there, alone in the too-big bed, the worse he felt. Had Louis woken up and regretted getting closer to Harry over this trip? Was he having second thoughts about their quirky dates? Was he bored and ready to go home? There was no way to know.

He could text Louis, but somehow that seemed wrong. As if Harry was intruding on Louis’ alone time. And true, they hadn’t had much time alone during this trip; they’d been living out of each other’s pockets. Maybe it had become too much for Louis.

Harry sat up with a start and scanned the dark room for Louis’ bags. What if he had simply left? But Harry could make out the shape of Louis’ suitcase next to his, and his shoes lined up neatly next to Harry’s on the floor.

Unbidden, images of the weeks and days leading up to their breakup flashed in Harry’s mind. The long nights of overtime Harry had picked up to make a little extra money; the bickering over little things that they once would have laughed about; and most significantly, Louis leaving after their small fights and disappearing for hours. 

True, he always came back. He had promised Harry all along that he would. But Harry remembered all too vividly pacing the flat, staring at his silent phone on the kitchen counter every few steps, waiting for a call or text that would never come.

Looking back now, having the advantage of hindsight, Harry saw that their responses to any kind of problem were to avoid it and not talk about it. Louis would disappear to hang out with Liam, and Harry would withdraw into himself and act distant, and nothing was ever solved.

Towards the end, there just seemed to be never enough time. Time for them. Time to simply be together, without worrying about working overtime or the stress of uni or bills to pay. Around the time Harry booked this trip, he agreed to take on extra hours and responsibilities at his firm to offset the cost. He was busy, but things were going okay. And then their washing machine flooded and sent water leaking downstairs, and the landlord demanded they pay the damages. Soon after, Louis’ nan got sick, and Louis spent weekends driving back to Doncaster to visit her. Everything had a cost, Harry learned, and that cost seemed to increase just when their circumstances couldn’t withstand it.

At times it seemed the universe was conspiring against them, Harry mused now in the quiet hotel room. He could appreciate the irony now; that just as things started to look up for Harry and Louis, everything came crashing down. And when that happened, their lack of communication widened the chasm between them even more. When Louis finally called a meeting one night to suggest they end things between them, it came as a relief to both. They parted on mutual terms, promising to stay friends and keep in touch.

Louis texted a few times, in the beginning. And Harry ran for the hills.

He didn’t reply to messages, and he didn’t go out with their mutual friends if there was a chance their paths would cross. Harry went off the grid, for all intents and purposes.

Eventually, Louis stopped texting. And the invitations stopped coming. And Harry enveloped himself in a stifling loneliness that he reasoned he probably deserved. He unfollowed Louis on social media, and stopped checking his Snapchat story altogether. Harry couldn’t bear to see it. It was weeks before Niall came knocking on his door, refusing to leave until they had a good chat. And when it came down to it, that was the kick in the ass Harry needed to get his life together. Weeks turned into months, and Harry got used to waking up alone. He went out with friends again, and spent time with his sister more, and bought a few houseplants that he chatted to often. And life just...went on.

Until that fateful night at the pub with Niall, when Harry remembered the trip, he had every intention of avoiding Louis for the rest of his life. It was possible. He knew he could survive it now. He honestly had no plans to rekindle things with Louis on this trip.

Maybe Louis felt the same way.

Maybe Louis regretted letting Harry back into his life. Maybe he couldn’t see past their immature behavior before the breakup, and didn’t want to risk that happening again. Harry wouldn’t blame him for that.

Harry musing was interrupted by the click of the lock on the door. He looked over in time to see Louis enter the room, carrying his phone and a pack of cigarettes. He was barefoot and exhausted looking, and it made what was left of Harry’s heart fracture into pieces.

Louis saw Harry was awake, and held up a finger for Harry to wait. He set his cigarettes and phone down on the nightstand, stripped off his jeans and tee shirt, and then climbed onto the bed.

“In case you were wondering,” Louis said by way of greeting, “no one can smoke within a twenty foot perimeter of this hotel. And it’s freezing out there.”

Despite being cold, Louis did not slide under the covers yet. Before Harry had a chance to respond, Louis spoke again.

“I’m sorry, H.”

Harry frowned and looked at Louis’ face. “What for?”

“I know it’s shitty timing, and I understand if it’s too late,” Louis continued, picking at a loose thread in the duvet. “But I’m really sorry for shutting you out before. When we were together, I mean.”

Harry was stunned. “I...okay? Louis, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Louis admitted. “And I guess I thought smoking alone on a random sidewalk in Brussels would help,” he laughed humorlessly. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry said, reaching out to touch Louis’ hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who should say I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Louis asked hesitantly.

“Because communication works both ways, and I didn’t talk to you either. I just kind of bottled it up, thinking it was better than starting a fight. But I was wrong.”

“Think we’d have been better off fighting it out?” Louis joked, but his expression was serious.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You didn’t text me back,” Louis said in almost a whisper. “I figured then I had fucked up beyond repair. Convinced myself you were better off without me.”

“Lou,” Harry breathed, tentatively linking his fingers with Louis’. “I’m the best version of myself when I’m with you. I knew that even then, but I was being stubborn. I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Louis said with a small smile. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Oh, and Lou?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s never too late. I’m glad you said something, because god knows I didn’t have the guts to.”

“You were right, before,” Louis said, cracking a real smile. “This communication thing is scary as hell.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry asked. “But worth it, I hope.”

“Definitely worth it.”

“Do you want to talk more about it later when we’re totally awake?” Harry asked.

“I’d like that,” Louis nodded. “But for now, can we go to sleep?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said. “C’mon, lay down. Are you still cold?”

“Fucking freezing,” Louis admitted, crawling under the covers.

Harry smiled in the darkness and curled up wordlessly behind Louis.

Louis chuckled. “You know you’re the little spoon, H.”

“Maybe so,” Harry shrugged, curling his arm around Louis’ slender frame. “But you’re cold and need to be cuddled.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m just saying, we’re going to wake up switched around.”

“We’ll see,” Harry said, letting his body relax next to Louis. “Now, sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a good day.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, Lou. Goodnight.”

Despite his earlier emotions, Harry was asleep before he heard Louis’ whisper of, “Night, love.”

*

The next time Harry woke up, he felt more rested than he had in months. Soft sunlight was shining in through the window, and Louis was curled around his back just as predicted. Harry was warm, and well-rested, and over the moon he and Louis had actually talked about the breakup. True, they still had some things to discuss, but it was a start.

“H, you up?” a raspy voice said behind Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry said, cuddling closer back against Louis. “You?”

“Yeah,” Louis answered. “Woke up with this song stuck in my head. It won’t get out.”

“What song?” Harry asked, starting to smile.

“You know the one that goes, ‘Gonna take a lot to take me away from you’?” Louis sang.

Harry grinned and sang the next line. “There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.”

“I bless the rains down in Africa,” they sang in unison, giggling. “It’s gonna take some time to do the things we never had.”

“Oh my god,” Louis groaned, burying his face in Harry’s hair. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

“So random,” Harry chuckled. “Now it’s stuck in mine.”

“Well, I’d say we can suffer together, but I’d really like a shower first.”

“I know, I know,” Harry sighed, turning around in the circle of Louis’ arms. “You get first shower.”

“Now you’re talking,” Louis said with a sleepy smile. “Besides, I smell like cigarettes.”

Harry leaned closer to take a whiff of Louis’ hair. “Hmm. I’m getting fancy hotel shampoo, a trace of cigarette, and something just...you.”

“Just me?” Louis asked with a grin. “What does it smell like?”

“I can’t really describe it,” Harry confessed with a small shrug. “It just smells, like. Warm. And happy.”

“That’s really sweet, H,” Louis whispered. “You know what you smell like?”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Sunshine,” Louis said, smile softening to the private smile Harry had missed so much.

“Even now?” Harry asked, brows raising.

“Always,” Louis said, poking Harry on the nose affectionately. “Now. Let’s get ready for Brussels, day two.”

Harry groaned and buried his face in Louis’ neck. “Do we have to get up?”

“We do. I have waffles to eat and sights to see.”

“Did you say waffles?” Harry perked up at that. “What are we waiting for then?”

*

The Hilton hotel breakfast sadly had no waffles, but there were plenty of pastries and types of coffee. Harry and Louis loaded up their plates and joined Ruth and James, who were eating as well.

“Morning, boys!” Ruth called, sipping her coffee. “Sleep well?”

Harry and Louis exchanged an amused glance, then nodded yes.

“We’ve got a lovely day planned,” Ruth continued. “And I’m going to practice my French.”

“Oh, cool, you speak French?” Harry asked politely.

“Goodness, no. But I’m learning! You’re never too old,” Ruth said with a sage smile.

“That’s true,” Louis said with a nod. “Anybody know how to say YOLO in French?”

*

Bob seemed particularly excited about their first stop that morning. As he waited for the group to gather around in the hotel lobby, he explained to the tour members standing nearby that the place in question was on his bucket list.

“It’s called the MIM, folks. The musical instruments museum, right here in Brussels. They have a great audio tour of musical instruments going back hundreds of years, all the way up to present day. It should be a great morning!”

The museum was located on a street corner in the city center, and due to the early hour, not many tourists flocked about.

“Note the striking Art Nouveau architecture,” Bob said, gesturing to the tall structure. “It was built in 1899, and the museum collection was moved here in 2000. The collection was created in 1877. Let’s go explore, folks!”

Harry and Louis opted for the audio tour of the museum, and were not disappointed. One hall featured a variety of pianos, which enthralled Harry. The audio tour gave a sampling of how each instrument sounded. There were instruments invented by Adolphe Sax, and bizarre looking horns and harmonicas. The audio tour took them through musical history, essentially, and Harry was fascinated. He flashed back to visions of his teenage self playing in a garage band with his best friends in Cheshire and smiled. Times had changed, but his love for music had not.

Every once in a while, Harry would spy Louis out of the corner of his eye. Louis was listening intently to his audio tour on the headset, enjoying the different instruments and their sounds. Occasionally, a musical sound would cause his eyebrows to raise in surprise, or make him smile, and Harry catalogued each expression he made. Maybe it was a little creepy, watching your ex/not quite boyfriend experience a museum, but Harry was okay with that.

Harry was amazed to find, at the end of the tour, that two hours had gone by. He met up with Louis where they deposited their headsets from the tour. Louis was smiling about something when he caught Harry’s eye.

“What did you think about that?” Louis asked.

Harry mirrored Louis’ smile. “I loved it. Could see why it was on Bob’s bucket list.”

“Did I ever tell you I tried to play a saxophone once?”

“What? No!” Harry exclaimed, stepping closer. “How did it go?”

“Awful,” Louis admitted with a grin. “I tried really hard. Couldn’t even get it to make a sound, no matter how hard I tried. I’m thinking now it might have been rigged.”

“Right,” Harry said, smile widening. “Sounds like a musical conspiracy.”

Louis huffed and poked Harry on his ticklish ribs. “Maybe it is. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Harry replied, dodging Louis’ tickling fingers. “I really liked seeing the guitar Jimi Hendrix used. Made me think of our Woodstock story.”

Louis’ smile softened. “Well, it’s a good story. Maybe one day I’ll write it down.”

“I’d like that,” Harry said. For a moment, it felt like the two of them were in their own little world. Harry met Louis’ eyes to find them already staring at Harry. 

“What?” Louis asked, when Harry continued to stare.

“Cerulean,” Harry answered. He didn’t have to elaborate. Louis’ bright smile was enough.

“Dork,” Louis said fondly, pulling on a wayward curl that had fallen from Harry’s bun.

“You love it.”

“I kind of do. Just a little.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, when he saw Bob approaching.

“Gentlemen!” he exclaimed, patting Harry and Louis on the shoulders. “Having fun?”

“Absolutely,” Louis said.

“Wonderful. I was just going to tell you, we’ll be making a quick run through one more museum before lunch. Then you’ll have time to explore the city at your own pace later.”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry replied. Louis nodded his assent. 

“Which museum?” Louis asked Harry when Bob sauntered off. “According to google, there are tons of museums here.”

“I guess we’ll find out in a minute,” Harry said.

“Do you think it will be as cool as this museum?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

*

When Bob announced their next stop was the Mont des Arts, Harry nudged Louis inquisitively.

“Obviously my French isn’t great, but does that mean...a mountain...of art?”

Louis snorted a laugh. “I have no idea. Let’s go find out.”

What they found a short distance from the Musical Instruments Museum was a hill with a scenic courtyard surrounded by museums.

“So yeah,” Louis said, turning to Harry with an amused expression. “Basically a mountain of art.”

Bob announced that the tour group could check out any of the museums around the hill, and then they would break for lunch. Harry pulled out his guidebook and found that it recommended the Musee Magritte Museum, so he and Louis followed the signs towards it.

“What do you know about surrealist art?” Louis whispered as they entered the Magritte museum.

“Um, not much. Why?” Harry replied.

“According to google at least, this Rene Magritte was a surrealist. Should be fun.”

And it was, despite their lack of knowledge on the subject. The museum comprised three floors of a building, and each one held something to spark their interest. Harry loved a painting of what appeared to be a woman in black riding a white horse. Louis, on the other hand, was impressed by an image of a man in a bowler hat next to a framed picture of a bowler hat in front of a brick wall, with only the illusion of a man’s face. The more he stared at it, the more there was to see.

When Harry paused in front of a portrait of a man in a bowler hat with a pipe over his nose, Louis wandered over to see.

“I’m noticing a trend here,” Louis murmured. “The bowler hats keep reappearing.”

“Maybe I’m being paranoid,” Harry replied in a low voice, “but it’s like his eyes follow you no matter where you step.”

“The fuck, H?” Louis said with a frown. “Let’s get away from here.”

They passed a wall of whimsical surrealist sketches, and a painting of a huge green apple, and a man in a suit with a pig’s head, looking demurely over its shoulder. Harry didn’t realize he was gripping Louis’ hand until the red exit sign was in sight and Louis squeezed back.

“Okay, that was a learning experience,” Louis said cheerfully as they walked out. “Now let’s see about some lunch, huh?”

Nothing had ever sounded so good to Harry at that moment. Especially when they discovered that lunch was going to be waffles.

At Vitalgaufre, the tour group had the opportunity to sample different flavors of waffles before ordering. It went without saying that Harry and Louis wanted chocolate, but they also tried a cinnamon flavor and a raspberry as well. After ordering perhaps more waffles than they could eat, the tour group snacked as they headed back to the Grand Place nearby. It was still as stately and beautiful as it had been yesterday. After the short walk, they found seats around the square to relax for a few minutes. The early afternoon sun was shining, finally warming the slightly chilly air. Louis slipped on his aviators and sat contently in the sun for a moment. Harry scrolled through the photos he had taken so far in Brussels, and sighed in disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asked, peering over the top of his sunglasses.

“Nothing,” Harry replied. “It just looks like we didn’t take as many photos here.”

“We can take more this afternoon,” Louis said consolingly. “I’m sure Bob has a plan.”

And what a plan it was.

“Okay, folks,” Bob explained a few minutes later as the group had huddled around him for instructions. “The plan for the rest of the afternoon is to just explore at your own pace, but there’s a catch--we all have to speak French!”

The bewildered Sunset Tours members exchanged confused glances, and some opened their mouths to complain. Just then, Bob held up a hand for them to wait.

“...Starting now!” he exclaimed with a chuckle. “Bonne chance!”

“Did he just say ‘good luck’ and walk away?” Louis asked, stunned.

“I think so,” Harry replied. “Well, you heard the man. Let’s practice our French.”

“What? Now?”

“Sure. Let’s try it. It’ll be good practice for Paris,” Harry reminded Louis. “Don’t you want to speak French to me?” he asked with a coy smile.

“Oh my god,” Louis groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I think you mean, ‘Mon dieu.’”

“How do you say, ‘I’m leaving your ass’ in French?” Louis asked in exasperation.

Harry opened his mouth for a witty reply, but Louis was already striding off. This was going to be a fun exercise.

*

Wandering Brussels a few minutes later, Harry and Louis stumbled upon another park. Since he didn’t know how to say, “Let’s go into the park!” in French, Harry just grabbed Louis’ arm and pointed excitedly. Louis rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Okay, okay,” Louis relented, letting himself be pulled into the park.

There were several tourists in this park, but Harry and Louis managed to stake out their own space in the grass under the sun. While Louis got comfortable, Harry pulled out his phone.

“Hey Lou, I found a good word.”

“Which one?” Louis asked.

“Cerulean,” Harry said, looking up with a smile. “Azure, with an accent over the e.”

“That’s no so bad,” Louis replied. “I like that. Azure.”

“Okay, how about...park,” Harry said, typing it into his phone. “Oh, parc. With a c. That was anticlimactic.”

Louis giggled and pulled out his own phone. “Okay, I’ll play.”

Harry busied himself with typing a new phrase, while Louis did the same.

“Okay,” Louis said, clearing his throat. “J’aime le football. I like football.”

“Not bad,” Harry conceded. “Tu es magnifique. You are gorgeous.”

Louis grinned and peered at Harry over the top of his aviators. “Really?”

“Oui.”

“Okay, up the stakes why don’t you. Hold on,” Louis replied, typing quickly. “Je veux tenir ta main.”

“What’s it mean?” Harry asked.

“I want to hold your hand,” Louis replied with a fond smile.

“Aww, Lou,” Harry crooned, edging closer to Louis on the grass. “That’s sweet.”

“Thought I’d ask first.”

“Such a gentleman,” Harry sighed happily, lacing his fingers with Louis’. “This is fun.”

“Say something dirty,” Louis suggested with a sly smile.

Harry scoffed but began typing. “Deshabille-toi. Take off your clothes.”

Louis snickered. “Here? Sure. Good plan, H.”

“You don’t want to go to jail with me in Brussels?” Harry joked. “Quelle tristesse. How sad.”

“I could put that sassy mouth to better use,” Louis teased. “How do you say, ‘blow me’ in French?”

“You know what?” Harry said. “I’m not looking that up and having it in my search history. Nope.”

Louis laughed. “Fair enough. What do you want to do?”

Harry thought for a moment. “Let’s take pictures.”

“Sure,” Louis agreed easily. “Camera or phone?”

“Phone,” Harry decided. “Then you can do filters.”

Louis pulled out his phone and lined up a shot of Harry. “Okay. Smile!”

Harry beamed at the camera, slightly self-conscious that his hair was frizzing. Louis snapped the picture, then looked at his screen. “Okay, now this time don’t look at the camera.”

Harry looked away towards a group of tourists with children. It must have been time for an afternoon nap, because one of the small children was throwing a tantrum. Harry didn’t even notice Louis taking his picture at the moment.

“What would you do if your child was throwing a fit in public?” Harry asked, still watching the family trying to placate the child.

“Hmm,” Louis mused, fiddling with an Instagram filter. “I don’t know. You?”

“Honestly, I’d probably sit down on the ground and cry along with him. I have no idea.”

Louis laughed. “Well, judging from taking care of my siblings growing up, all you can do is wait it out.”

Harry turned to face Louis. “Did you ever wonder what kind of parent you’d be?”

“I don’t know,” Louis said thoughtfully. “Did you?”

“I don’t know either, about me. But I have a theory about you.”

“Oh god. This I have to hear.”

“So, I was thinking, you’d be the dad to cuddle up with your child and tell them bedtime stories and sing them to sleep at night. The gentle, nurturing dad.”

“Just calling it like I see it.”

“Well, I guess that would make you the fun dad,” Louis added. “The one who makes chocolate chip waffles for breakfast and lets the kids help. The kitchen ends up looking life a war zone, but you don’t mind. The kind of dad who brings home a stray kitten you found and adopts it.”

“What would you do if I brought home a stray kitten to a house full of kids?” Harry asked, already guessing the answer.

“I’d welcome it with open arms, and then after we put the kids to bed, I would spank you.”

Harry giggled. “If you could catch me, you mean.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “You think I couldn’t catch you?”

“I mean...you can’t catch me now,” Harry exclaimed, then jumped up and scampered off, giggling.

Louis was on his feet in a second, darting after Harry. Harry might have had a head start, but Louis was faster. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Louis gaining on him and squealed. He tried to run faster, but he was no match for Louis. With a triumphant shout, Louis tackled Harry from behind and they both tumbled to the ground. 

“Ha! Gotcha,” Louis cried, tickling every inch of Harry he could reach. “Now what?”

“Lou!” Harry gasped, trying to squirm away. “Stop, I can’t breathe!”

Louis continued his tickle assault for a moment, then flipped Harry onto his back and pinned him down.

“Pinned ya,” Louis said with a predatory grin. “Now what should I do with you?”

Harry’s giggles died down as he blinked up at Louis, going pliant under his body. “You could kiss me,” Harry suggested.

“I could,” Louis said, considering it. “But you’ve been awfully sassy today. Maybe I should punish you.”

Harry shivered in the cage of Louis’ arms. His entire existence narrowed down to the little bubble they had created around themselves in a park...a very public park. Harry blushed under Louis’ intense gaze.

“Lou, I think people are watching.”

“Mhm. But I think you like that, don’t you?” Louis said softly, leaning down until his lips brushed Harry’s ear. “You like showing people whose you are.”

“Lou,” Harry said, eyes wide and glassy in the afternoon sun.

“Whose are you, Harry?” Louis pressed, leaving a lingering kiss on Harry’s flushed cheek.

“Y-yours,” Harry breathed, barely a whisper, but Louis heard.

“That’s right, love. And I’m yours, too. If you want me.”

“I want,” Harry replied instantly. “But Lou?”

“Hmm?”

“If you get me hard in this park in broad daylight, I’m not blowing you again.”

Louis laughed, then pressed one soft peck to Harry’s lips before sitting back on his heels so Harry could sit up.

“Sassy.”

“You love it, though,” Harry said dazedly, sitting up slowly.

“Maybe I do. Now, let’s go finish our tour of Brussels.”

*

Harry and Louis opted to dash back to the hotel to clean up for dinner, since they had time. It was a chilly evening, so Harry stuck with a thick cable-knit sweater that Niall insisted brought out his eyes. When Louis emerged from the bathroom in black skinnies, a band tee, and a blazer, Harry’s eyes glazed over. 

“We can skip dinner, you know,” Harry said, never taking his eyes off Louis.

Louis laughed. “I didn’t squeeze into these jeans for nothing, love. Let’s go.”

Louis had made reservations for a restaurant on the way to the hotel, and refused to tell Harry what it was. So when they were ready for dinner, Louis led the way to the lobby, hailed a cab, and gave the address to their driver.

Harry had never heard of Fin de Siecle, when the cab arrived at the restaurant, but judging by the line of people waiting for a seat, it must be something. At the door, Louis gave the reservation name of Tomlinson, and a waiter led them to a table in the back of the restaurant.

While Louis pored over the menu, Harry took in his surroundings. Above the bar were several chalkboards with the menu options on them. The ceiling was a curious shade of purple, and colorful Art Nouveau pendant lights hung over tables. It had a homey, casual vibe that Harry liked.

“So looks like based on the reviews online, and the menu here, that the thing to get is the sausages and mash,” Louis said, interrupting Harry’s musing. “Want to try it?”

“Sure,” Harry replied with an easy shrug.

“And the dessert is supposed to be good as well, so save room.”

“You had me at dessert,” Harry quipped, picking up his menu. “Ooh, vanilla bean ice cream with baked cinnamon apples? Wow!”

“Are you thinking wine or beer?” Louis asked, scanning the drink menu.

“Beer, maybe?” Harry asked, flipping his menu to read the options. “We can ask for suggestions. It’s worked so far for us.”

When their waiter arrived to take their orders, he recommended a Belgian beer. Harry and Louis were game, so they decided to try it.

“The vibe I’m getting from Brussels,” Harry said after the waiter had left, “is laid back and a bit quirky. I like it.”

“Me too!” Louis said. “Would definitely come back someday.”

“Can you believe we only have one city left on the tour?” Harry asked.

“God, I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Louis replied. “Paris is the end.”

“The end...or maybe a new beginning?” Harry asked hopefully, biting his lip.

Their beers arrived then, and Louis lifted his in salute. “To new beginnings, and old friends.”

Harry grinned and lifted his beer to tap against Louis’. “I’ll drink to that.”

*

The reviews Louis read were on point, because the sausages and mash were delicious. As planned, they saved room for dessert somehow. Harry and Louis decided to split the apples and ice cream dish, and it was the perfect end to a slightly odd, busy day.

“This was a great idea,” Harry said, enjoying a big bite of ice cream. “Thanks, Lou.”

“Anytime. I’m glad you liked it,” Louis replied with a smile. “What should we do now?”

Harry glanced at his phone and saw it wasn’t yet 10 pm. “Want to, as Bob always says, stroll?”

Louis laughed and agreed. They soon paid their check and left Fin de Siecle, which was still crowded despite the hour. 

“According to google, once again, the Grand Place isn’t far,” Louis said as they began walking. “Want to see how it looks at night?”

“That sounds perfect,” Harry said. “Lead the way.”

Louis offered Harry his arm, and Harry linked his arm through Louis’ as they walked. It was chilly, but not too cold, and Harry was well and truly content. He tried to take everything in as they walked, since it was their last night in Brussels, but every few seconds he found himself looking at Louis.

“Do I have something on my face?” Louis asked with an amused expression.

“Hmm? No,” Harry replied, blushing a little under the streetlights. “You look really handsome is all.”

Louis leaned closer to Harry, until they bumped together when they walked. “Really?”

“Really, really. I mean, you always look great, but tonight...I don’t know, never mind.”

“No, what is it?” Louis pressed.

“You just look...radiant. And pretty. That’s all.”

Louis stopped in the middle of the street where they were strolling. “You think I’m radiant?” he asked quietly, pulling Harry closer by the waist.

“I do, yeah,” Harry replied, stepping closer to Louis. “Always.”

“See, that’s not fair,” Louis murmured, bringing up a slender hand to stroke through Harry’s hair. “If I’m radiant, then what are you?”

“Really fucking lucky,” Harry answered immediately.

Louis shook his head fondly, then leaned up on his tiptoes to press a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. “You’re impossible. My sunflower boy.”

Harry smiled against Louis’ lips. “You love it.”

“I do.”

“I think we’re almost there,” Harry whispered. “I can see the lights.”

Louis turned to look down the street, and saw some of the buildings surrounding the Grand Place lit up in the night.

“Let’s go see then,” Louis said, stepping back an inch and lacing his fingers through Harry’s. “I’ve been missing some light in my life.”

*

Despite the late hour, there were still tourists in the Grand Place square. Louis pulled out his phone and opened the camera. In the lights from the buildings framing the square, the cobblestone path seemed to glow and cast dramatic shadows all around. Harry felt like he was in a Disney movie. Louis pulled Harry closer to fit both their faces in the frame and lined up a photo with the opulent buildings in the background. 

“Smile,” Louis said.

Harry smiled for the camera. It was the easiest thing he had done in months.

*

Back at the hotel, Harry and Louis undressed in companionable silence. There was no need for a luxurious bubble bath, or a midnight smoke crisis, so they climbed into bed and settled in under the lamplight. 

“Brussels was really nice,” Harry said, yawning big. “Excuse me, sorry. It was a lot of fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Louis mused. “We kind of explored it at our own pace, which was nice.”

“Do you think we’ll have the chance to do that in Paris?” Harry asked.

“Knowing Bob? Nah,” Louis laughed. “He’ll have us running from sunup to sundown. But you know what?”

“What?”

“It’ll be worth it to see the look on your face. It’s your dream city, H.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry admitted. “I’ve been fascinated by Paris since I was little.”

“Why?” Louis asked curiously.

“Something about the lights,” Harry replied with a faraway smile. “The lights, and the romance, and the...just the energy. It seems really special.”

“It’s going to be,” Louis promised, tucking a stray curl behind Harry’s ear.

“We just have to get there,” Harry said.

“How long of a train ride is it?” Louis asked.

“About an hour and a half,” Harry yawned. “Not bad.”

“We’ll be there in no time,” Louis said, yawning as well. “We just have to sleep first.”

“Will you hit the light?” Harry asked, burrowing down in the sheets. “I’m ready to sleep.”

“Sure, love,” Louis replied, reaching over to turn off the lamp. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Lou.”

Soon after, Harry drifted off to sleep with visions of the bright lights of Paris and Louis, and slept soundly through the night.


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

 

Paris

 

“Not all those who wander are lost.”

\--J. R. R. Tolkien

 

On a train headed to Paris, Harry watched from the window as the skies clouded over ominously. Every once in a while, there would be a break in the clouds where Harry could see a sliver of sunlight, but it was gone again in a flash. He sighed and flipped through his guidebook, hoping to find activities to do on a rainy day...just in case. 

The first raindrops hit the train window about fifteen minutes outside of Paris, and Harry’s heart sank. All his life, he had dreamed of the day he would go to Paris, and now that the day had come, it was raining. The irony was not lost on Harry, but he still felt like pouting.

Louis had been in his own little world, reading travel blogs about visiting Paris. When Harry sighed at the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance, Louis looked up curiously.

“H, what’s wrong?”

Harry glanced at Louis, then at the rain falling outside the window. “It’s raining.”

Louis quirked a smile. “We live in London, Harry. I think we can handle a little rain.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but just then an enormous, jagged bolt of lightning illuminated the sky. Seconds later, the thunder rolled again.

“Okay,” Louis muttered, staring at the storm brewing outside. “Or a lot of rain. Jesus.”

“Don’t suppose you packed an umbrella?” Harry asked hopefully.

Louis chuckled. “Don’t suppose I did. Don’t worry though; we can find one.”

“We’ve had such good weather up till this point,” Harry said, turning resolutely from the window. “I never thought it would actually rain on us.”

“Hey, we’re still going to have fun,” Louis insisted, patting Harry on the thigh. “You’ll see.”

“What are you reading?” Harry asked, peering over Louis’ shoulder at his phone.

“Just a few blogs,” Louis said, leaning closer so they could share the phone. “Hey, look--this one has a page for things to do on a rainy day in Paris. What are the odds?”

Harry leaned his head against Louis’ shoulder. “What kind of things?”

“Well,” Louis said, scrolling down the page, “besides shopping and museums, there’s also a tour of the catacombs, and historic covered galleries. Looks like a lot of shops and cafes under a shelter so you’re out of the rain.”

“Okay, those sound fun, actually,” Harry admitted.

“What the hell is a cat cafe?” Louis asked, frowning slightly at his phone.

Harry grinned and looked at the screen. “A cafe full of cute cats? Lou, we have to go.”

“It says reservation only,” Louis said, impressed. “Are there that many people in Paris who want to play with cats?”

Together, they scanned a few more blogs until the train rolled into Gare du Nord station.

As predicted, there were tourists everywhere Harry looked when they disembarked the train. They collected their luggage and followed the Sunset Tours group to a vacant spot nearby to wait for Bob’s instructions.

“Okay, folks--everybody here and accounted for? We should have used the buddy system. Oh well. Anyway, we’ll be meeting the coach outside in a few minutes, and it will take us to our hotel. Get settled in, relax a bit, and then we will meet in the lobby for our first venture into Paris!”

When they arrived at a hotel several minutes later due to heavy traffic, Harry stared at the facade for a moment, then turned to Louis with an amused expression.

“The Hotel California?” he asked.

Louis glanced up at the sign and flashed Harry a smile. “Such a lovely place.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We came all the way to Paris to stay in the Hotel California?”

“Looks like it, yeah,” Louis replied. “Let’s go inside; I’m dying to see it.”

The first word that came to Harry’s mind when he saw the hotel lobby was red. Underneath an opulent crystal chandelier, the plush red and gold carpet was offset by red upholstered chairs and red pendant lights on the tables. Beyond that, the floor was a more understated neutral marble, but the red left an impression.

Louis leaned closer to Harry and whispered, “You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.”

Harry snorted a laugh and elbowed Louis. “Is this going to be an ongoing thing? You quoting song lyrics to me?”

“Probably,” Louis replied breezily. “Let’s go check out the room.”

Harry was expecting more red, so when they opened the door to their hotel room, he breathed a sigh of relief. The room was outfitted in neutrals and black, with soft sconce lighting on the walls and a large king bed. But best of all, a gauzy white curtain gave way to a charming balcony that overlooked one of the most famous districts in Paris. A wrought-iron table and two chairs sat on the balcony, and Harry decided then and there to order room service the next morning so he could drink his coffee overlooking Paris.

“No soaker tub,” Louis reported, coming out of the bathroom. “It’s really nice, though. Haven’t seen so much marble in one room before.”

They dropped their luggage in a corner of the room, then slid off their shoes. It had been a short trip from Brussels, so they weren’t necessarily tired, but Harry and Louis sank down on the enormous bed and sprawled out.

“Look,” Louis said, spreading his limbs out like a starfish. “I can do this and I’m still not touching you.”

Harry spread out in similar fashion, and found even with his long limbs that he still had inches between himself and Louis. “Is this the biggest bed we’ve ever slept in?” he asked. 

“Hmm, I think so,” Louis replied, staring up at the ceiling. He turned to give Harry a mischievous smile. “I’m gonna cuddle you so hard in this bed.”

Harry giggled. “Cuddle? Is that all?”

Louis rolled onto his side facing Harry and gave him an appraising look. “Depends on how good you are, I guess.”

Harry’s smile spread slowly. “I can be good.”

“I know you can,” Louis replied with a confident smile. “I’ve seen it.”

Harry turned onto his side, mirroring Louis’ position. “I can be bad, though.”

Louis’ smile turned predatory. “Then you can be punished, as well.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something daring, and just then Louis’ phone beeped. He sighed and pulled out the phone to read a new text.

“We’ve been summoned,” Louis reported. “Ruth is waiting in the lobby with the tour group.”

The moment clearly over, Harry sat up on the bed, then stood and put his boots back on. Louis slipped his shoes back on, and they headed down to the lobby to meet the group.

Bob explained that their first stop would be to stroll down Champs-Elysees and sightsee. Since it was Sunday, he said, the street was partially blocked off for pedestrians to experience. There would be plenty of cafes and restaurants to choose from for lunch, and they would finish up that area with a visit to Arc de Triomphe.

Their hotel was on the avenue itself, so it was a short walk until the group was strolling along cobblestone paths down a long, wide expanse of road. As expected, shops, cafes, and restaurants lined the way, and the road was full of other tourists walking and biking along.

The rain had passed over, at least for a while, and the overcast sky had lightened up a bit. The storm had left a slight chill in the air, and Harry was grateful for his long sleeves. For half an hour or so, Harry and Louis strolled down the wide avenue, just window shopping and people watching. They were walking in the general direction of the Arc de Triomphe, which stood tall and proud at the end of the Champs-Elysees.

“What does your book say about the arch?” Louis asked as they strolled.

Harry opened the guidebook to a bookmarked page and scanned the description.

“According to this, it’s one of the most famous monuments in Paris. It was built in 1836 as a monument to Napoleon’s 1805 victory at Austerlitz. And it says here there’s an observation deck,” Harry said, looking up with a smile. “I know how you love climbing up to those.”

Louis shook his head fondly. “Wow. A guy climbs 509 steps once, and never lives it down.”

“Do you want to look around some more, or head to the Arc?” Harry asked.

“Let’s go on and check it out,” Louis suggested.

The two walked the rest of the avenue until the arrived at a roundabout with the Arc standing proudly in the center. Predictably, there were tourists, but Harry and Louis took in the sights eagerly. Had it just been a simply-constructed arch, the structure still would have been impressive with its sheer size. But upon closer examination, the arch was covered in intricate sculptures, plaques, and engravings that Louis eventually googled to find out their meanings.

While Harry lined up a few shots of the Arc on his camera, Louis gave a recap of the Wikipedia page.

“Okay, so first of all, each of the four pillars contain sculptures depicting the French First Republic, Napoleon’s coronation in 1810, the French resistance of 1814, and the Treaty of Paris in 1815.”

Harry zoomed in on his camera to see the sculptures up close. “Here, look at the Napoleon one,” he said, offering the camera to Louis. Louis looked through the viewfinder and studied the sculpture.

“I know we’ve seen a lot of sculptures on this trip, but I’m always amazed by the level of detail they have,” Louis said, handing the camera back to Harry.

“Me too,” Harry replied. “Want to go closer?”

“Sure,” Louis answered.

Walking further until they stood underneath the arch, they looked up to see engravings of roses on the ceiling. Below that, on the insides of the arch, were lists of names. Louis consulted Wikipedia again and found that the names belonged to military leaders of the French Revolution and Empire. 

After walking around the Arc together, Harry and Louis decided to go inside. Rain began to sprinkle around them as they sought shelter. They entered to find there was indeed a lift to take them to the top, but the stairs were less crowded. Harry turned to Louis with a pleading expression.

“Lou, let’s take the stairs. It’ll be fun.”

Louis tilted his head in consideration. “Notice you didn’t say it will be faster, because it definitely won’t. How many stairs are there?”

“Not that many probably,” Harry said, glancing at his guidebook. “C’mon, Lou. Let’s do it.”

“Okay, but if it’s more than 50 stairs, you’re carrying me.”

*

284 steps later, Harry huffed out an exhausted sigh. When his feet hit the ground of the observation level, Louis slid easily off his back where he had promptly jumped on at step 51.

“You were right, H. That was fun,” Louis laughed, clearly having enjoyed the piggyback ride.

Harry straightened up with a wince, his back popping loudly. “Oh my god. My back will never be the same again.”

“Are you saying I’m heavy?”

“Of course not,” Harry replied quickly. “It was the steps that got me, I think.”

Louis patted Harry on the back proudly. “You did great, thank you.”

“I’d say anytime, but that would be a lie,” Harry quipped, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Okay, so we made it to the top. Let’s go check it out.”

Together, they walked to the railing that ran the perimeter of the observation deck. Looking down, they saw several main avenues stretching out from the roundabout below out into the city of Paris.

Harry began taking photos, and Louis swiped his guidebook and opened it to the marked page.

“There are twelve avenues emanating from this point in every direction,” Louis said. “Cool.”

Harry leaned against the railing and stared across the horizon. “Imagine what it looks like at night,” he remarked.

“Probably really beautiful,” Louis replied, leaning closer wrap an arm around Harry’s waist.

Rain was still falling intermittently, but the view from the top of the Arc was worth it. After a few minutes of staring down into the complicated web of avenues and smaller streets, Louis politely asked a nearby tourist to take their picture. Harry and Louis stood with their arms around each other side by side, with the city of Paris stretching out behind them. The tourist, a young woman, snapped the photo and handed back Harry’s camera with a smile.

“Great picture,” she commented with a smile. “Enjoy Paris!”

Harry and Louis thanked her and then looked at the photo she had taken. Despite the clouds looming overhead and Harry’s sore back, they were both smiling widely in the photo. Harry planned to frame it when they got back home. 

“Now, the real question,” Louis said. “Can we take the lift back down?”

*

Luckily, they only had to go down a couple dozen steps to reach the lift. When they stepped inside, Harry sighed in relief. Louis grinned and wordlessly rubbed Harry’s back for a moment. 

Harry moaned at the feeling. “Can I like...pay you to walk along with me everywhere and just rub my back?”

“Nope,” Louis laughed, pressing harder on Harry’s lower back. “I can’t be bought. Unless there’s free drinks involved. Or chocolate.”

At the base of the Arc, Harry and Louis ran into a few other Sunset Tour group members who were going up. They decided to sit outside and wait for Bob and the rest of the group. While they waited, Harry and Louis revived the people watching game.

“Okay,” Louis said, leaning into Harry’s side. “Guy in the USA sweatshirt and dad jeans, reading a map.”

Harry studied the man. “He’s from Indiana. He’s meeting a friend from an online dating site. They’ve been chatting for months, and finally decided to meet in person.”

“Nice. Go on.”

“She thought it would be romantic to meet under the Arc de Triomphe today. So he bought a map and luckily ended up here. But she’s late. And now he’s having second thoughts.”

“Think he’s been catfished?” Louis asked.

“Nah. She’ll show up eventually. It is the city of love, after all. Okay, the young couple holding hands and taking a selfie by the Arc.”

Louis observed the energetic young couple for a moment. “Honeymoon in Paris,” he said confidently. “They’re going to post that photo on Instagram with the Valencia filter--”

“Eww--”

“...and caption it something like, ‘Our love is monumental’ with a winky face.”

Harry giggled and buried his face in Louis’ shoulder. “Oh my god.”

“Okay, you’re up. Old lady feeding the birds across the way.”

“Easy. She’s Mr. Indiana’s internet date,” Harry joked. “She got here early to scope things out, and she’s deciding how to break the news to him that she might have lied about her age a little.”

“A little? Harry, she must be eighty.”

“Okay, so she lied a lot. But people do silly things for love.”

“Ah, true.”

They played the game for about five more minutes until Bob strolled up to them.

“Gentlemen! Enjoying the view?” he asked with a bright smile.

“Definitely,” Harry answered. “You?”

“Oh, yes. I always stop by the Arc when I visit Paris,” Bob replied.

“How many times have you been?” Louis asked curiously.

“Well, since I’ve been leading this tour, about five times. And twice on my own outside of that. And let me tell you,” Bob said with a dreamy expression, “it gets lovelier each time I visit.”

Just then, the thunder rumbled overhead, and rain began to drizzle. Bob blinked up at the storm clouds with mild exasperation.

“And now I think it’s time to go inside. We’ll be heading towards the Musee d’Orsay, if you want to start now. I’d recommend buying an umbrella somewhere on the Champs-Elysees first though,” Bob suggested.

So Harry and Louis stopped at a conveniently located umbrella stand, and Harry picked out a bright polka dot umbrella for them to share. The walk to the museum was much more pleasant with the umbrella.

As they walked along, Harry consulted his guidebook. “Looks like we’re going to cross the Seine to get to this museum.”

“What else is on the other side of the river?” Louis asked.

“Hmm...looks like the Eiffel Tower, for one!” Harry exclaimed.

Harry heard another rumbling sound, and looked up to the sky. “More thunder?”

“Not exactly,” Louis laughed. “My stomach is growling.”

“Oh my god,” Harry said, realization dawning on him. “We missed lunch.”

“Want to grab something to eat on the way to the museum?” Louis suggested.

“Good call.”

They agreed to stop at the next cafe they passed, and soon found Publicis Drugstore. Harry hesitated at the name, but another sound from Louis’ stomach convinced him to give it a try. They were pleasantly surprised at the selection of food on the menu, and since the lunch crowd had moved on at this hour, they were eating gourmet sandwiches in no time. If they had a glass of rose, nobody had to know.

Crossing the Seine, Harry stopped to take a photo. “I know this is a really historic river,” he said, “but I don’t exactly know why.”

Bolstered by their hearty lunch, Louis pulled out his phone eagerly. “Let’s ask our friend, Wiki.”

Harry stared out across the river as Louis searched online. A moment later, Louis snorted a laugh.

“Well, for one thing, Napoleon wished to be buried on the river bank when he died. But for some reason, his request was denied.”

“Morbid, but okay,” Harry replied, looking at Louis’ phone screen.

“Okay, and also, after Joan of Arc was burned at the stake in 1431, her ashes were thrown into the river,” Louis added.

“I’m noticing a trend here.”

“Oh, wait. In 845 an army of Vikings sailed up the river and invaded Paris.”

“Did anything nice ever happen here?” Harry wondered aloud.

“Not that I’m seeing, love,” Louis murmured. “Want to move on?”

“Please.”

The Musee d’Orsay wasn’t far from the river, and they arrived soon after. Harry was impressed at once at the museum’s sheer size.

“According to this, it was originally a railway station,” Harry read from his guidebook.

Looking up at the structure, Harry could picture trains coming and going at the station at the turn of the century.

“Want to go inside?” Louis asked.

“Definitely.”

The museum was as stately and spacious inside as Harry pictured it. From the many windows, a little sunlight streamed into the cavernous interior. Amidst the bustle of tourists inside, Harry could still hear the raindrops splattering against the windows. They paid for tickets and then proceeded into the museum, while Harry read the description from his book. 

“Top of every visitor’s must-see list is the museum’s painting collections, centered on the world’s largest collection of impressionist and post-impressionist art,” Harry read. “Cool.”

For the next hour or so, Harry and Louis browsed the collection of paintings the museum had to offer, which was vast to say the least. Harry lost track of time wandering from painting to painting, soaking in the impressionist colors and tones. He slipped on his earbuds to cancel out the murmuring of tourists, and selected a playlist he may or may not have named “Louis Abroad.”

When Louis caught up with Harry in front of Edgar Degas’ “L’Absinthe,” Louis pulled out one of his earbuds and listened in. The Avett Brothers were singing, and Louis stared at the painting in front of them as he listened.

_ Grab your bag and grab your coat _

_ Tell the ones that need to know _

_ We are headed north _

Harry glanced at Louis from the corner of his eye, then turned back to the painting. It featured a young woman sitting at a cafe table, dressed to the nines. But she slumped in her seat, and her expression was so sad, Harry wanted to reach out and hug her. In front of the woman sat a glass of what Harry assumed was absinthe. And next to her, an oblivious man dressed in black smoked a pipe and looked away from the woman. Through his earbuds, the Avett Brothers lamented in song.

_ Three words that became hard to say: _

_ I and love and you _

Harry reached out and wordlessly grabbed Louis hand. Louis didn’t turn from the painting, but smiled as he intertwined their fingers. The longer Harry stared at the woman in the painting, the sadder he felt. Louis must have guessed his mood, because he squeezed Harry’s hand and led them away to the next painting. And then the next.

By the time his admittedly quirky playlist had reached Bebe Rexha and Florida Georgia Line’s “Meant to Be,” Harry was feeling back to his normal self. He looked at Louis to find him already staring.

“What?” Harry asked.

Louis smiled enigmatically. “I like this song. Catchy.”

Harry smiled back and nodded. “It is.”

“What’s this playlist called?” Louis asked. “I know you make one for every occasion.”

Harry bit his lip and blushed under the dim museum lights. “Oh, you know. Just something random I thought up.”

“Mhm,” Louis replied, eyes sparkling with mirth. “If you say so.”

“Did you hear there was a Van Gogh here?” Harry asked, changing the subject.

Louis gave him a long look, but eventually relented. “I didn’t, no. Lead the way.”

By sheer luck, Harry led them to Van Gogh’s “Starry Night over the Rhone.” Harry stopped in his tracks, then walked a little closer to the painting. There was something captivating about the lights, and the use of colors, and the technique, that made Harry feel like he was there.

“You like this one,” Louis observed, watching Harry’s expression.

“I do,” Harry nodded. “There’s something charming about it. But it somehow captures motion, if that makes sense. Like I can imagine the way the waves move and the stars twinkle.”

Louis stared at the painting for a long moment. “You’re really good at this. I just see stars shining over a river.”

“Look closer,” Harry said, pointing at something in the foreground. “There’s a couple strolling along the bank of the river.”

Louis leaned closer to the painting, then raised his eyebrows. “Good eye, H.”

Harry smiled. “I used to want to be an artist.”

“You are one, love.”

“No, I mean, like, a painter. Or a sculptor,” Harry explained. “To make something someone would put in a museum one day.”

“Hmm,” Louis mused, staring thoughtfully at Harry. “Well, there’s still time.”

“Yeah, maybe in my spare time I’ll take up painting,” Harry joked. “All that free time I have.”

“Been pretty busy at work?” Louis guessed.

“Very. And it’s like...I’m working on someone else’s dream, essentially--not my own. I feel like my life is just passing me by.”

“I think we all feel like that sometimes,” Louis assured him. “But maybe one day you can work for yourself, you know? Have your own studio and make your art your way.”

Harry turned from the exquisite painting to stare at Louis. “You think I could do it?”

“I know you could,” Louis answered confidently. “C’mere.”

Harry took a step closer, and Louis opened his arms for a hug. Harry went easily. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s middle and gave him a little squeeze.

“What was that for?” Harry asked.

“That,” Louis replied, pulling back an inch, “was to apologize for all the times I didn’t tell you how amazing you can be. And this,” he said, rising up on tiptoe and pressing his lips gently to Harry’s, “is for how amazing you already are.”

Harry smiled against Louis’ lips. “Thanks, Lou. I don’t know what to say.”

Louis pulled back from the hug and smiled fondly. “You don’t have to say anything. Just keep being you, Harry Styles. Because I think you’re pretty great.”

“I think you’re great, too, Louis,” Harry whispered with a small smile. “Je vous adore.”

“What does it mean?” Louis asked with a curious smile.

Harry shrugged. “Means it’s time to move on to the next painting.”

“Mhm,” Louis said skeptically. “If you say so. Lead the way.”

*

Stopping to chat as they walked, Harry and Louis eventually got passed by some of the Sunset Tours members. By the time Ruth and James appeared around the corner, Harry and Louis had already seen paintings by Cezanne and Renoir. 

“Oh, hello boys!” Ruth called as they approached. “Isn’t this museum lovely?”

“It is,” Harry and Louis said in unison. “Are you having a nice time?” Harry asked.

“The best time!” Ruth exclaimed. “I saw a few Van Goghs and thought of you.”

Louis smiled. “We really liked the Starry Night one.”

“Oh, yes,” Ruth nodded in approval. “You boys are becoming quite the art connoisseurs.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Harry said with a smile, “but we’re having fun.”

“That’s what matters, isn’t it dear?” James asked, smiling at his wife.

“Of course,” Ruth agreed, reaching out for James’ hand to hold.

“So where to next?” Harry asked curiously.

“Well, if the rain has finally calmed down a little, I think the plan was to take a break before dinner, and then see Paris at night.”

Harry smiled hopefully at Louis. “Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?”

The way Louis smiled fondly at Harry then made him think that maybe Louis agreed.

*

Le Taillevent restaurant was near the Hotel California and, according to Bob, legendary. So Harry and Louis returned to the hotel to change, and then set out walking down Champs-Elysees to eat. They agreed to meet Bob back at the hotel at 8 pm to take the “Paris by night” tour with the group. That left them plenty of time to enjoy their meal.

Louis had called ahead about reservations, and was told that due to the early hour, they wouldn’t have a long wait. As the two approached the restaurant, the gloomy clouds were starting to pass over, leaving a few glimpses of sunshine.

“Our first night in Paris,” Louis remarked with a smile, taking in his surroundings. “I’d say it’s a good start.”

Harry agreed that the restaurant was nice. They had been seated at a round table near a large bay window that looked out onto the avenue. The immaculate tablecloth and place settings set a high standard. The interior of the restaurant was outfitted in warm wood tones and neutrals. Overall, it was aesthetically pleasing without seeming too fancy.

While they checked out the menu, a waiter brought the wine list. Harry was no wine expert, so when he asked the waiter for a suggestion, he kindly recommended a French label to try. Harry knew not everyone preferred their wine as sweet as he did, so he was a little apprehensive. But when the waiter returned with a vintage bottle for them to inspect, he was curious enough to taste it.

The waiter poured a small amount into Harry and Louis’ wine glasses. With a shrug at each other, they both tasted it at the same time. Harry watched Louis narrow his eyes in thought as he evaluated the flavors of the rich red wine. As for Harry, he was so relieved it wasn’t a very dry wine that he was happy. Eventually, Louis flashed the waiter a smile and nodded.

“I think we’ll take it,” Louis said, glancing at Harry to make sure, who simply nodded.

Their waiter smiled and gave a small bow, then left the bottle on the table. When he had walked away, Louis leaned closer to Harry across the table.

“Is this what fancy wine is supposed to taste like?” he whispered.

Harry grinned and shrugged. “No idea. You’re talking to the Patron tequila expert here.”

Louis mirrored Harry’s shrug. “Well, when in Paris. What do you say we get buzzed and then take Bob’s tour de Paris?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Now you’re talking.”

Their waiter returned to take their order, and likely sensing they were new to meals with several courses, walked them through their options. Harry and Louis both decided on a steak dish for their main course, and took the waiter’s suggestions for the others.

“Four courses?” Harry murmured to Louis when the waiter left. “I feel a little underdressed now.”

Louis nodded a little nervously. “Me too. I think we should stay, though. How often are you in Paris, you know?”

They agreed to stay for dinner, and chatted about the sights they had seen while they waited.

“What did you like most today?” Louis asked.

Harry paused to think for a moment. “The Starry Night painting, hands down. You?”

“Hmm,” Louis replied. “I think just walking around in the rain, people watching.”

“It’s been a good day,” Harry agreed. “Now let’s see how this fancy food stacks up.”

Four courses later, Harry was a believer in Le Taillevent. Somehow, they had polished off the bottle of wine, along with each course they were served. Harry looked at the time and noted they had half an hour to make it back to the hotel for the night tour. So they took their time walking back, enjoying the sunset over the city.

“I could say something really clever about a sunset tour right now,” Louis said. “But I’m going to refrain.”

Harry laughed. “Well, it’s the last leg of the farewell tour now. I think I’ll let it slide.”

“So what did you imagine doing here, when you used to picture coming to Paris?” Louis asked.

“The usual things, I guess,” Harry reflected. “Museums, French food, shopping, seeing all the sights. Mostly, I just wanted to be here and see what it was like.”

“What do you think of it so far?”

“I think...that it’s big, and loud, and really, really magical.”

“Will you be sad to go home?” Louis asked.

They hadn’t mentioned life in London much over the course of this trip. In the back of his mind, Harry knew that he would have to go back there. But he had mostly ignored it until now.

“I don’t think so, no,” Harry said after a long pause. “I mean, this holiday was exactly what I needed, but I’ll be glad to be back home. You know?”

“Yeah, same,” Louis replied. “I almost can’t believe it myself, but I miss my students. Even the rowdy ones.”

Harry laughed as they walked along. “I imagine they miss you, too.”

Arriving back at the hotel, Harry and Louis found some of the tour group waiting for Bob in the lobby. Louis pointed out Ruth and James sitting together at a small table, and he and Harry walked over to greet them.

“Bonsoir!” Harry said as they neared the couple. “Did you have a nice dinner?”

“We sure did,” James answered with a smile.

Ruth glanced at her husband and giggled. “We might have gotten into the wine.”

“Oh, we did too; don’t feel bad,” Louis said. “YOLO, right?”

“Right!” Ruth and Harry said in unison.

Bob appeared soon and led the group out onto the avenue to give his instructions.

“Alright, folks. It’s time to take a little stroll along the riverbanks and see the city by night. You will be able to see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and even the Musee d’Orsay we visited earlier.”

From the Champs-Elysees, the group walked to the bridge over the Seine. The same river that had seemed depressing by day was now sparkling under the light of the stars and the bright lights of Paris. When they made it to the riverbank on the other side, they found that a few other tourists had the same idea. Some were camped out in chairs, others sprawled on blankets on the grass, while others stood and took photos of the city.

Harry was preoccupied with adjusting the settings on his camera for the low light, so he was surprised when Louis placed a hand on his shoulder.

“H, look,” Louis said.

Harry followed Louis’ line of sight and almost dropped his camera. For there, rising proudly above the rest of the city, was the Eiffel Tower, blazing with light.

Harry could only stare for a moment, awestruck. Then he wordlessly reached for Louis’ hand. When he felt Louis lacing their fingers together, Harry turned to face Louis in amazement.

“Lou, it’s...it’s so…” he trailed off, lost for words. 

Louis smiled fondly and nodded. “I know.”

“And it’s right there! So close!” Harry added, finally finding his words. “It’s beautiful.”

Harry and Louis stared at the tower for a moment in silence, just taking it in. Louis squeezed Harry’s hand, and Harry suddenly felt tears sting his eyes. He blinked them back, aware that all around them, people were talking and laughing and just existing in the presence of such beauty. But he and Louis were safe in their own little bubble.

Harry shook his head slowly. “It was worth it.”

“Hmm?” Louis asked, turning his head to stare at Harry.

“The trip. It was worth it. All the extra hours and jobs at work, all the saving--it was all worth it, Lou.”

“Because you’re at the Eiffel Tower?” Louis asked with a small smile.

“Because I’m at the Eiffel Tower with  _ you,”  _ Harry replied emphatically.

When Harry finally tore his eyes away from the tower to stare at Louis, he found Louis to be staring at him, deep in thought.

“What?” Harry whispered.

“Nothing,” Louis whispered back, shaking his head. “Have I told you thank you yet?”

“Lou--”

“No, seriously. I can only imagine what you sacrificed to get us here together. But I just want you to know,” Louis said, his voice wavering a little now, “that I’m grateful.”

Harry smiled, blinking back tears. “Okay. And thank you, for coming with me. I may not have been your first choice to travel with, after everything we’ve been through--”

“Harry--”

“But I’m going to be selfish right now and say, I didn’t want this with anybody else. I wanted it with you. And it was worth it.”

Louis paused to wipe a tear from Harry’s cheek that he didn’t even realize was there. “Well, for the record, you’re my first choice for a lot of things, not just an option. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. Because really, all I want is this.”

“Paris?”

“No,” Louis laughed, eyes welling up with tears now too. “Us. You and I. I want it however I can get it. And if that means seeing the world together, or just seeing a movie, I’m in.”

“Yeah?” Harry whispered, daring to hope.

“Yeah,” Louis confirmed, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Is that what you want too?”

“It is,” Harry smiled, sniffling a little. “Yes, of course. Always.”

“This is gonna take some work, H. We have a lot to figure out,” Louis warned gently.

“We do. But there’s no one else I want to figure life out with.”

“This is kind of scary,” Louis admitted with a small laugh. “Jesus.”

“I know,” Harry said, taking a step closer to Louis. “But I meant what I said; it’s worth it.”

“We’re worth it,” Louis corrected with a fond smile.

Harry could only nod, and then press his lips to Louis’ for a tender kiss. To Harry, it felt like much more than a kiss; it felt like a promise.

Louis was smiling when they broke apart. “Oh, and Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“The group has left, so I think we’re on our own to get back.”

Harry giggled, a little exhausted at the range of emotions he had experienced in one day. “Then let’s take the long way home.”

*

Nothing had ever looked so appealing as their king-sized bed back at the Hotel California several minutes later. Harry sighed blissfully as he undressed, crawled under the covers, and relaxed. He must still have had the peaceful smile on his face, because Louis laughed at the sight of him. 

“Comfy there, H?” he asked.

“Almost. I could really use a cuddle,” Harry replied, cracking one eye open.

“Say no more,” Louis grinned as he undressed. He slid into the bed and edged closer to Harry. “Now, do you still insist you’re the big spoon, or can we just do it my way?”

Harry opened his other eye and smiled sleepily. “Your way works.”

“Turn over, love,” Louis said, moving close enough to touch.

Harry used the last of his energy to turn over on his side. A moment later, he felt Louis curl up against his back and press a kiss to the back of his head. Harry drifted off exhausted but happy after his talk with Louis. Now that they were on the same page, Harry knew the future was bright.

*

The opening bars of “Dancing Queen” woke Harry from a dreamless sleep the next morning. Louis was wrapped around him like a koala, dozing obliviously. Harry squinted his eyes closed, hoping the music would magically go away, but it didn’t. Finally, Harry sighed and carefully crawled over Louis to the other nightstand where ABBA was singing. 

_ You can dance, you can jive! Having the time of your-- _

“Fuck,” Harry groaned, silencing the alarm. “That’s it, Lou. We’re breaking up.”

Louis didn’t move or indicate he had heard Harry at all, so Harry hovered over Louis on his hands and knees and let his hair hang down until it tickled Louis face. Harry tried not to laugh as Louis’ nose scrunched up adorably and he tried to move his face away from the annoyance. But Harry just followed Louis’ motions with a grin.

“Wipe that sassy look off your face,” Louis grumbled without opening his eyes, “or I’m going to spank you.”

Harry snorted a laugh and leaned down closer, until his lips brushed Louis forehead. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Louis dared him, finally opening his eyes and squinting in the light. “You’ve grown a little too sassy for your own good lately.”

A wide smile spread across Harry’s face. “It’s not punishment if I like it, Lou.”

Louis blinked up at Harry sleepily. “Why are we awake anyway? It’s too early.”

“You tell me. You’re the one with ‘Dancing Queen’ blaring from your phone at an ungodly hour.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. Why would I do that?” Louis kept a straight face, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“To drive me crazy,” Harry groaned. “But since you’re up--”

“I most certainly am not--”

“Why don’t we order up breakfast and sit on the balcony this morning? The rain seems to have passed.”

Louis smiled. “Now that I can do.”

*

Breakfast consisted of coffee and tea, pastries, and fresh fruit, courtesy of the Hotel California. 

“Darn. I forgot to ask for mirrors on the ceiling and pink champagne on ice,” Louis quipped, pouring a cup of tea.

“How long have you been saving that one?” Harry grinned over his plate.

“Far too long,” Louis admitted.

They ate enough to get them through what was sure to be a vigorous day with Sunset Tours, and enjoyed the view from their balcony. The sun was finally out, and Harry was in a great mood.

When they had finished eating, Harry grabbed his phone. “While you shower, I think I’m going to check the itinerary.”

“Actually, I was thinking,” Louis said, setting down his teacup. “Maybe we can just shower together? Save water, you know.”

Harry smiled at Louis’ attempt to be casual. “Mhm. Water conservation. One of my passions as well. Say no more.”

With that, Harry stood from the table and walked back into their hotel room. There were butterflies in his stomach, because it wasn’t just a shower. It was a tentative commitment, in a way. And Harry was all in.

Louis followed Harry into the room, scrolling through something on his phone. He glanced up and said, “Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Harry nodded and walked into the bathroom to start the shower running. He knew Louis liked a steamy, hot bathroom just as much as he did. While he waited for Louis, Harry stripped out of the casual clothes he had thrown on to sit on their balcony for breakfast. He tested the water with his hand, and deeming it hot enough, stepped into the shower.

Harry sighed as a few leftover aches in his back twinged. Maybe piggyback rides up two hundred stairs weren’t the best idea. He turned his back to the shower spray, letting it pepper his back with scalding hot water, and let his muscles relax. For a moment, he just stood there, letting the water run down his body.

He was reaching for the little bottle of hotel shampoo when Louis’ voice cut in.

“Let me.”

Harry smiled and handed the shampoo to Louis, who poured some into his hands. Harry leaned down a little when Louis reached up to massage the shampoo into his hair. 

“I’m not that short,” Louis mumbled under his breath, but he was smiling. Louis washed Harry’s hair with the same singular focus he attacked everything. His fingers worked through Harry’s tangled curls and then tilted his head back so the shampoo didn’t run in his eyes. Once he was satisfied, Louis told him to rinse. The hotel shampoo smelt like citrus, and soon the entire bathroom smelt fresh. Louis worked the conditioner into Harry’s hair next, dragging his fingers gently across Harry’s scalp until Harry wanted to purr in contentment.

Louis chuckled at the face Harry must have been making. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like this more than sex.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at the prospect of sex. “Me? No, nope. Although it does feel really nice.”

Harry rinsed out the conditioner while Louis began to wash his own hair. He didn’t have the same visceral reaction to someone’s hands in his hair, as Harry remembered. Harry stepped aside so Louis could rinse his hair next. Then he reached for the body wash.

“Says it’s ocean mist scented,” Harry read off the label. “Can I wash you?”

“Sure,” Louis said, slicking his clean hair back from his face.

Harry popped the cap of the body wash and poured a generous amount into his hand. He lathered it up, then feeling almost shy suddenly, reached for Louis’ collarbones and chest.

“You can touch, love,” Louis said, stepping closer.

So Harry traced soapy hands across Louis’ chest, admiring his “It is what it is” tattoo in cursive script. He took his time running his hands down to Louis’ narrow waist and hips. Harry grabbed more body wash and smoothed his sudsy hands across Louis’ toned arms, noting a couple new tattoos. He would have to ask about those later. 

Steam swirled around them as Harry trailed his fingers down below Louis’ belly button, across his soft tummy, and down to his cock. Louis sucked in a quick breath, but didn’t speak. Harry stroked the length of it with a loose fist, just feeling, and Louis let out a barely-there sigh.

Harry knelt a little awkwardly to run his soapy hands down Louis’ equally toned thighs and calves, tracing over his kneecaps and feet.

“Turn,” Harry said from his position on the shower tiles.

Louis obeyed wordlessly, and then Harry was presented with the sight of Louis’ perfectly shaped ass. The first touch across one of his cheeks brought goosebumps up on Louis’ skin, and Harry smiled. He smoothed his hands down the curve of Louis’ ass, letting his thumbs drift closer to Louis’ hole. Unfortunately, Harry realized, this was not the time or the place for one of his favorite pastimes with Louis, licking him out. So Harry stood, his knees popping a little, and guided Louis towards the shower spray to rinse. When Louis turned back to face Harry, he wore a knowing smile. 

“I appreciate your restraint, given our time limitations.”

Harry grinned. “I’ll get you sooner or later.”

Louis shrugged casually. “We’ll see. Your turn.”

Harry had showered dozens of times with Louis when they were together last, but Harry never got tired of the sensation of Louis’ slender hands tracing every inch of his skin. Now, as Louis washed him thoroughly but gently, Harry repeated the words like a mantra over and over in his head:  _ time limitations, time limitations. _

Louis guided Harry under the shower spray to rinse, and gave Harry an amused smile.

“Now, as much as I’d like to suck your dick right now, we have to get ready for the tour. Maybe we’ll have some alone time later.”

Harry nodded obediently. “Tour. Later. Yes.” Then he shut off the shower.

They dried off in companionable silence, and then Louis went out into the hotel room to dress while Harry brushed his teeth. Harry emerged from the bathroom and went to put on clean clothes, and saw Louis was on his phone again. He was curious, but didn’t ask.

A few minutes later, they were presentable and went down to the lobby to meet the group.

“Oh my god,” Harry mused as they walked. “It’s our last day as tourists.”

Louis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Already? When do we leave?”

“In the morning, I think,” Harry replied.

“Hmm. Well then, we need to make our last day as tourists count,” Louis replied. That said, he linked his fingers through Harry’s.

Most of the tour group had assembled when they arrived in the lobby. Soon, Bob appeared to explain the plan for the day.

“Okay, folks. Good morning! We have a great day ahead. We’ll start at the Louvre, then after lunch we’ll visit the cathedral of Notre Dame and Luxembourg gardens. You’ll have some free time after that to enjoy your last night in Paris.”

That said, Bob led the group out to a waiting coach to travel to the Louvre museum. Harry and Louis filed onto the coach and grabbed a seat together. Armed with his camera and guidebook, Harry was ready for the day.

Arriving at the Louvre museum, Harry’s jaw dropped at the size of it. It was more like a palace than a museum, he noted. In front of the imposing structure was the famous pyramid, just as Harry had seen in movies and books. He was already impressed, and they hadn’t yet gone inside. 

Harry couldn’t resist taking a few photos of the exterior of the museum. Then, he and Louis followed the crowd into the museum. Harry grabbed a museum map, and saw that it was divided into eight different departments.

“How do we choose?” Harry murmured, reading the list of available exhibits.

“What do you want to see most?” Louis asked, looking at the map.

“Paintings. And sculptures. But there’s so much more.”

“What do you say we start at the beginning and then just skip through parts that don’t interest us as much?” Louis proposed.

“Good plan,” Harry said. “Better get started then.”

The task proved to be daunting. Even at the early hour, the museum was full of tourists. Nevertheless, Harry and Louis explored the Greek, Etruscan, and Roman department. At the Nike of Samothrace, or Winged Victory, Harry and Louis paused. The sculpture had been damaged by time, but to Harry, it was still powerful. The detailing in the figure’s wings and the folds of her gown were meticulous. Nearby, they also viewed the Venus de Milo.

“There’s something about her face,” Harry remarked, taking a photo.

“Kind of like she’s looking down on us mere mortals and judging us?” Louis asked.

“Wow...exactly. Now who’s the art expert?” Harry teased.

They bypassed a few departments, like the Decorative Arts and the Near Eastern Antiquities. By the time they arrived in the Paintings department, they merely had to follow the crowd. According to Harry’s pamphlet and map, there were over 7500 paintings in the collection. Since it would take days to see them all, they focused on the Italian Renaissance collection.

They took their turns behind other tourists viewing works by Caravaggio and Titian. But the real urge was to see the Da Vinci collection.

Although the wait time was tedious, when the crowd broke an inch and Harry could see a fraction of the Mona Lisa, it was like time stood still. He walked closer as other tourists finally moved on, and soon he was standing right in front of her.

Harry honestly didn’t mean to cry.

It was like one minute, he was taking in the surprisingly small size of the painting, and examining her knowing smile, and the next he felt a tear stream down his face. Staring at the centuries old face, Harry felt like he was actually being seen in return. It was remarkable. 

Harry felt Louis press a comforting hand to his back, and instinctively leaned into his side.

“Okay?” Louis murmured in his ear, rubbing his back gently.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, sniffling a bit. “I’m alright.”

Since they had waited their turn to see the painting, Harry and Louis took a few more moments to take it in. Knowing that this might be the only time in his life he got to see her, Harry felt strangely sad. As if reading his mind, Louis spoke.

“We can come back, love. She’ll still be here.”

Harry nodded and let Louis lead him over to the “Virgin of the Rocks.” They viewed the painting together, admiring the colors and tones of the work. It was beautiful, but didn’t evoke the same emotional reaction in Harry as the Mona Lisa. And that was fine with him.

They still had some time left, so Harry and Louis went to check out the Prints and Drawings department. Harry had always loved to draw and doodle, so he enjoyed viewing the collection. That is, what was being displayed at that time. His pamphlet pointed out that the museum alternated which pieces to display at a time due to the fragility of the paper and materials.

Harry was surprised to see that three hours had passed when they reached the exit of the museum. He knew he had photos and memories of the museum, but still felt as if he was leaving something important behind. He guessed that was just the nature of tourism though.

This time, it didn’t take Louis’ stomach rumbling to tell Harry it was time for lunch; he was hungry himself. Since some of the tour group was still in the museum, Harry and Louis set out to find a nearby place for lunch.

“Hey, we can get it to go and then eat by the river,” Louis suggested, pointing to the Seine.

So they checked out the Cafeteria de la Pyramide, where they selected salads, sandwiches, and a bottle of rose to go. Harry and Louis made a picnic by the Seine, in an area not full of tourists, and ate their lunch.

“So that was pretty cool,” Louis said, referring to the museum. “What’s next?”

“Notre Dame cathedral,” Harry replied. Finding they didn’t bring cups, he simply took a swig of the rose wine. He handed the bottle to Louis, who shrugged and did the same.

“This is a pretty epic day,” Louis admitted. “I can’t believe we went to the Louvre.”

“I can’t believe I cried in the Louvre,” Harry quipped, reaching for the wine. “Wait, yes I can.”

Louis laughed and patted Harry on the back. “Hey, it happens to the best of us.”

They finished their lunch and cleaned up the picnic area. “See, now we have a happy thought to associate with this river. Good times.”

Harry smiled. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did, yeah.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, leaning closer to peck Louis on the cheek. “Think we can add this to the Wikipedia page? ‘Harry and Louis had a lovely picnic here in 2018’?”

“Let’s try it when we get home. Now, I think it’s time to check out the cathedral.”

*

“Notre-Dame de Paris,” Bob announced on the coach ride to the cathedral, “is perhaps the best known Catholic church in the world. It’s French Gothic architecture is legendary for a reason, as you’ll see. It was completed in 1345. There are a series of spiral staircases that will lead you to the famous bell, as well as great views of the city from above.”

Harry looked at Louis with a hopeful smile. “Did you hear that, Lou? Great views.”

“Nope. Oh, no you don’t. We’re not climbing another 509 steps.”

“Who said anything about 509? I’m sure it’s not that many,” Harry coaxed.

“Piggyback ride?” Louis asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“It seems we’ve reached an impasse, then.”

Harry rolled his eyes fondly. “So it would seem.”

They continued to banter until the coach rolled up to the cathedral, and Harry and Louis promptly went silent. They stared at the facade for a moment, stunned at its size and height, until it was time to disembark the coach. Eventually, Louis turned to Harry.

“The longer I look at it, the bigger it seems,” Louis confessed. “Wow.”

“I know,” Harry said, shaking his head in wonder. “The word that comes to mind is ‘majestic.’”

As they exited the coach and approached the cathedral, dodging other groups of tourists, excitement fluttered in Harry’s stomach. He had read the description of the cathedral in his guidebook, but it had not prepared him for the sight of it.

“And here we are at the Notre-Dame de Paris,” Bob said in introduction. “I’d like to point out a few things, and then you’ll be free to explore inside. First of all, you will note the flying buttresses which were added to support the walls. The cathedral was one of the first buildings to implement them in its design. Secondly, it’s interesting to note that the cornerstone for the cathedral was laid in 1163. You’re experiencing world history here, folks. And finally, when you step inside, take a look at one of my favorite features, the stained glass rose window on the north side. It’s a great example of the Gothic style. Let’s go check it out now!”

Some of the tour group went inside at that point, but Harry and Louis lingered for a moment to take in the facade. In addition to the familiar two towers rising atop the cathedral, Harry also searched the highest parts for the gargoyles and chimeras he had read about. When he saw one, a large chimera with its chin propped on its hands, staring down at the city, he took a photo. Louis followed his line of sight and looked as well.

“I think I’m liking the Gothic style,” Louis said, taking in the facade. “I could stare at it all day.”

“There’s just something about it,” Harry agreed, “that makes you stop and stare. Want to go inside?”

“Sure. What does your book suggest we look for?”

“Let’s see...they recommend the rose windows, treasury, and bell towers,” Harry replied, reading. Louis looked over his shoulder to read the rest of the passage:

_ From the North Tower, 400-odd steps spiral to the top of the Western facade, where you’ll find yourself face-to-face with frightening gargoyles and a spectacular view of Paris. _

Louis looked up to the sky and shook his head. “I see stairs in my future, and I don’t like it.”

Harry snorted a laugh and patted him on the back. “It’ll be worth it; you’ll see.”

They entered the cathedral amidst a sea of other tourists to explore the interior. The lighting was somewhat dim, as most of the sunlight was being filtered through stained-glass windows. However, Harry turned on the flash on his camera and walked on. Moving towards the high altar, which was the focal point of the interior, they came to a statue of a young woman dressed in armor with her hands clasped in prayer.

“Who is she?” Louis asked curiously, stepping closer.

Harry was about to google it when something clicked. The fact that this was a woman in military gear stood out, as did the praying hands.

“I think it’s Joan of Arc,” Harry replied, looking closer.

“Wow,” Louis breathed, taking it in. “Didn’t we just read about her yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “When she was executed, her ashes were scattered along the Seine.”

“And now she’s considered a saint,” Louis observed, pointing to the base of the statue, where the words ‘Sainte Jeanne d’’Arc’ were engraved. 

“She’s beautiful,” Harry remarked. “And brave.”

After a few more moments viewing the statue, Harry and Louis walked on towards the altar. It was quite a sight to behold. Streaming down above the altar was a canopy of golden silk fabric. A large gold cross stood in the center. In front of the cross, intricate statues framed the altar, which was covered in white and purple cloth. The statue in the middle depicted what Harry interpreted to be Jesus after his death, sprawled limply on the lap of a woman lifting her hands in supplication. Angels attended the scene on either side. Flanking the central sculpture, two kings stood on each side. A quick google search explained they were Louis XII and Louis XIV.

Harry knew objectively that Jesus was the focal point of the scene, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman. Harry thought her expression was pained, and her delicate hands were raised as if to say, “look what we’ve done.” He stared for a long moment, taking it all in. Harry wasn’t a religious person necessarily, but the scene was moving.

Next, they found the rose window Bob had mentioned, and Harry couldn’t resist taking a photo. He had never seen anything so intricate in his life. Each pane of the window was painted in exact detail, depicting either bright colors of blue, red, and green, or figures of people Harry presumed were from history. The overall effect was that of a kaleidoscope, bursting with color and intricacy. Like the facade for Louis, the more Harry stared at the window, the more there was to see.

When Harry turned to Louis, he found him scrolling through something on his phone.

“I looked it up,” Louis admitted, finally meeting Harry’s eyes. “It says that while some of the stained glass in the cathedral was damaged by gunfire in WWII, the rose windows were spared. That’s pretty amazing.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow. That’s really cool.”

“Now, what else do we need to see?” Louis asked.

Harry quirked a smile. “I think you know.”

Louis sighed and shook his head. “It’s a good thing I wore my best stair-climbing shoes.”

*

“Oh god,” Harry groaned a few minutes later, ascending the stairs of the cathedral. “When they said spiral, they meant it.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it,” Louis answered from directly behind. “Did you know it was going to be so narrow?”

“Nope,” Harry huffed, climbing along. “Do you think we’re halfway there?”

“I hope so. I’m about to jump on your back.”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry warned. “We don’t need another hunchback of Notre-Dame.”

Louis snorted a loud laugh. “How long have you been waiting to use that?”

“All day. Now c’mon, I think we’re getting close.”

Despite their fatigue, Harry and Louis soon reached the famous Emmanuel bell, the largest in the cathedral.

“It was created in 1631,” Harry panted, reading from his guidebook.

“It’s huge,” Louis remarked. “How many tons do you think it is?”

“According to this, 13.”

“Jesus.”

“I guess they ring it for special occasions,” Harry said, staring at the enormous bell.

“Let’s see,” Louis said, pulling out his phone. “Let’s ask our old friend Wiki.”

Harry took a few photos while Louis searched. For being over 300 years old, the bell was in pretty good shape, all things considered.

“Okay,” Louis said, pulling up the page. “Well, one interesting thing is this:  _ On the night of 24 August 1944 as the Ile de la Cite was taken by an advance column of French and Allied armoured troops and elements of the Resistance, it was the tolling of the Emmanuel that announced to the city that its liberation was under way.” _

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed, feeling oddly emotional at the thought. He stared at the timeless bell with a newfound appreciation then.

“Want to press on?” Louis asked, pocketing his phone. “I know you want to see these views.”

Harry agreed, and not long after, they were standing at the highest point of the cathedral looking down on Paris. And while they had certainly seen some amazing views on this trip so far, this one took Harry’s breath away. A cool wind whipped around them as Harry and Louis stared out across the city of Paris.

“Look, H,” Louis said, pointing into the distance.

Harry followed his line of sight and saw, to his amazement, the Eiffel Tower. He smiled slowly and nodded. “Beautiful in any light.”

“And check out the gargoyle, or chimera, or whatever he is,” Louis said, pointing to their left. Harry turned to see a figure perched on the ledge made of stone, with what appeared to be goat horns and a grotesque expression on its face. 

Harry took a photo and nodded appreciatively. “Why do you think they went into so much detail this high up?”

Louis shrugged. “That takes some dedication.”

Since there were other tourists patiently waiting to see the views as well, Harry and Louis soon made their way back down the stairs. It was a little dizzying for Harry going down such a narrow spiral staircase, and at one point he felt Louis press a stable hand to his back as they walked. At the base of the stairs, Harry let out a deep breath.

“Okay, maybe no more staircases like that.”

“Hey, fine with me. Want to go find the group?” Louis replied.

They found the rest of the Sunset Tour group clustered outside chatting. Harry imagined most of the senior citizens didn’t trek up the staircase to the top. When everyone was accounted for, Bob explained that their last stop would be the Luxembourg Gardens before dinner. They would have the rest of the night free then.

“This place looks cool, Lou,” Harry said, skimming through his guidebook.

“What does it say?”

Harry read the short description aloud.

_ This inner-city oasis of formal terraces, chestnut groves, and lush lawns has a special place in Parisians’ hearts. Napoleon dedicated the 23 gracefully laid out hectares of the Luxembourg Gardens to the children of Paris. _

He looked up with a smile. “I know how you like parks.”

“Yes, I do,” Louis said with a wink. “I always find ways to entertain myself in them.”

Harry shook his head fondly. “How much trouble can we get in in a Parisian park?”

“Let’s find out.”

*

After a short coach ride, the group arrived at the Luxembourg Gardens. Bob gave them free reign to explore, noting that the coach would leave for the hotel in an hour and a half. So Harry and Louis exited the coach and went exploring.

Entering the park, the words regal and elegant came to Harry’s mind. There was a literal palace on the grounds, which Louis researched and reported as the Medici palace. In addition, there were beautifully manicured lawns framed by flower beds fulls of beautiful blossoms. In the late afternoon sun, Harry felt like time was suspended there. 

They walked around for a while, observing fountains and statues as they went. Another time, maybe, they could research what each one signified. For now, though, at the end of a long day, they were content to simply stroll.

Eventually they reached a scenic spot with several empty chairs lined up, and decided to sit for a while. They ended up staring out across a pond with a family of ducks swimming along. The afternoon sun was warm overhead, and a cool breeze blew. Harry felt utterly at peace.

Louis nudged Harry with a knowing smile. “You like this one.”

“I do,” Harry replied, blinking lazily in the sunlight. “I’m feeling very zen.”

“Good,” Louis replied, reaching for Harry’s hand. He laced their fingers together and stared out at the water. “God, we really needed a holiday.”

Harry chuckled. “We sure did.”

They watched the ducks splash and swim for a moment. Birds chirped in the nearby trees, and even the other tourists talked in muted voices, so as not to disturb the peace.

“Imagine if we met here,” Harry said with a smile.

“When?” Louis asked.

“After sixth form.”

“Oh god. You would not have liked me then,” Louis laughed. “Okay. So we both came with family?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Family holiday. What are we doing?”

“Well, I’m likely chasing down my younger sisters, who are running all over the place. And you’re sitting here, writing in your journal. Looking cute with your curls.”

Harry giggled. “I was not cute, Lou.”

“Sure you were. So, there you sat, and there I was running around. I saw you first. And I just wanted to know you. So I let my sisters run wild for a minute and came to say hello.”

“And I was instantly charmed.”

“Not quite. I was all sweaty and hot from running, and my hairstyle was not the best. You made me work for it, but eventually, we got to talking. I told you about my wild family, and you told me you were writing a poem. That you wanted to be an artist. We lost track of time just talking. I had never seen eyes as green as yours before, and I was a little smitten.”

“And I thought you were cool and fun, and couldn’t believe you’d want to talk to me,” Harry replied.

“And just as we got to talking, our families found us. And we discovered that we were both leaving Paris soon, and wouldn’t see each other again. So I asked for your number,” Louis said. “We said goodbye, and I was sad all the rest of the day.”

“Did you ever call me?”

“I couldn’t. The day we left Paris, I dropped my phone in a puddle and it died. I knew I had lost you forever then.”

“And I was disappointed that you never called me,” Harry said. “So I dated the first guy that smiled at me, even though he was an asshole. And I thought it was the end. But we met again.”

“When?”

“Umm...ten years from now.”

“Hmm,” Louis mused for a moment. “Both single?”

“Recently divorced.”

“Both of us? Damn. Kids?”

“None yet.”

“Okay,” Louis nodded slowly. “What are we doing here?”

“Well,” Harry said, “I sold my wedding ring and quaint house in the country and splurged on a trip to Paris.”

“And I used the money I had been saving for a second honeymoon and flew here on a whim. I was planning to move on to another city the next day, and then I saw you.”

“You knew it was me?”

“Fate works in mysterious ways, Harry. I saw you walking through this very garden, and couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“And you said hello. And I thought you were crazy until I recognized you and remembered.”

“And you were happy to see me, but your eyes were still sad. And if my heart wasn’t already broken, it would have broken then.”

“What did you do?”

“Anything I could to put a smile on your face. Made you laugh, took you to a cafe to talk for hours. Bought you flowers.”

“Did you kiss me?” Harry asked.

“Not for a while. It just didn’t seem like the right time. Eventually, we had to go back home. But we kept in touch. I texted you things to make you laugh, and you told me terrible knock-knock jokes--”

“Excuse you, they are not terrible--”

“And one night, it was just an ordinary night eating dinner at your place. And I looked at you, and your eyes were bright again. I had never seen anything so beautiful. And I kissed you then, standing over a pot of pasta on the stove. It was twenty years in the making.”

Harry’s eyes blurred with tears, and he squeezed Louis’ hand. “Was it worth the wait?”

“It was, love. You were worth every lonely night, every asshole I dated, every wish blown out on a birthday cake. You were worth it all.”

A tear ran down Harry’s cheek, and Louis wiped it off with a fond smile. “Fuck. You made me cry again,” Harry sniffed.

“Sorry, love,” Louis replied. He pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“We’re not going to any more parks,” Harry laughed wetly. “So did we live happily ever after?”

“Of course. We had a house full of kids and noise, and laughed a lot. And every chance we got, we packed our bags and traveled together. It was a little complicated with three kids, but it was always worth it. We were worth it.”

Harry buried his face into Louis’ shoulder and sniffled loudly. “Oh my god. Now I know my face is all splotchy.”

“Let me see,” Louis coaxed, lifting Harry’s face to his.

“Is it bad?” Harry asked.

“Nope. It’s gorgeous,” Louis said with a private smile. “Now dry your eyes, because I have one last surprise for you.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, wiping his eyes.

“Come and see.”

*

“Okay, Lou, I understand you’re excited,” Harry said, reaching out tentatively.

“Yes, I am,” Louis replied, catching Harry’s hand in his.

“...but why do I have to close my eyes? Again?”

Louis chuckled. “Because it’s a surprise.”

“You did this in Amsterdam, too,” Harry sighed.

“And look what a nice surprise that was,” Louis countered. “Now, keep ‘em closed.”

They were in the backseat of a taxi going who knows where, and Harry was on the edge of his seat. He knew this must be a pretty good surprise, and he couldn’t sit still.

“Are we there yet?” Harry asked in Louis’ direction, eyes still closed.

“Nope. I’ll tell you when we get there. But you’ll still have to keep your eyes closed until I say.”

Harry sighed and slumped back against the seat. “Fine. But I’ll get you back for this.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“What did Bob say when you told him we were leaving?”

“He said for us to have fun, but not too much fun, and said he’d meet us in the lobby at 8 tomorrow morning,” Louis replied. “Nearly there.”

Soon, the taxi stopped, and Louis paid the driver. He carefully led Harry out the door and onto the street, guiding him by the hand. He still hadn’t given any indication of where they were. Louis led Harry a short distance, and Harry could feel when they transitioned from pavement to grass.

“Another picnic?” Harry asked with a smile.

“We’ll see. Almost there,” Louis said.

It seemed Louis was positioning Harry in the middle of an open field, which made no sense. Harry knew he looked a little silly, but he trusted Louis. And he was excited.

“Okay, now, when I say open your eyes, look straight ahead. Are you ready?”

“I think so.”

“Then open your eyes.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes, squinting in the early evening light, and looked right ahead as Louis had asked. And his jaw promptly dropped. 

Straight ahead, in all its glory, was the Eiffel Tower. Closer than ever.

Harry could only blink slowly, his mouth hanging open in surprise for a moment. And then he felt tears prick his eyes. Slowly, he tore his eyes away from the tower and turned to Louis.

“Lou? Why...how…?”

Louis smiled and shrugged, still holding Harry’s hand. “I knew you’d want to see it. Properly, I mean. You don’t come all the way to Paris and not see the Eiffel Tower up close.”

Harry shook his head, lost for words. Louis just smiled patiently. Finally, Harry could string a sentence together.

“You did this...for me?”

“Of course, love. It’s our last day here, and I wanted to surprise you. So here we are. Do you want to take pictures?” Louis asked.

Harry finally looked away from Louis’ bright blue eyes and down to the camera still around his neck. Then he looked back up at Louis. “I’d like that, yes.”

Louis’ answering smile was brighter than the sunset around them. “Then do it, love. We have time.”

Harry grinned and shook his head, still in shock, and turned back to face the tower. It was just as graceful and lovely as he had pictured it, only more so. He lined up an experimental shot with his camera, and then snapped the picture. With the sun setting behind them, the sky around the tower was awash in reds and pinks and oranges. It was breathtaking. Harry lost track of time as he took photo after photo, trying different angles and techniques. At one point, he heard the shutter of a camera and turned to find Louis had taken a photo of him with his phone.

Louis shrugged guiltily. “You were in the zone. I had to.”

Harry giggled and pulled Louis into a hug. “Thank you, by the way. This is lovely. The best day.”

“Well, it’s about to get better,” Louis said, pulling back an inch. “We’re going up.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Really? But how many steps?”

“Who knows? I think it’s worth it, don’t you?” Louis replied.

Harry could only nod and Louis led him by the hand to a gate up ahead. They went through a security section, and then, because Louis was Louis, he announced they had tickets reserved. Harry had no idea when he did that, but was impressed. They found out upon entering that while there were indeed stairs leading up a couple levels, the top level was accessible by a lift. Louis thanked the man who took their tickets, and then Harry was being led to the second staircase of the day. 

This time, though, he smiled brightly and walked up as high as the steps would go. And he didn’t count the stairs. Beside him, Louis was humming as they walked. Not once had he complained about the stairs; he seemed quite happy, actually.

At the top of the stairs, there was a restaurant and a view of the city, but Harry and Louis climbed on. There was one more staircase, and then a lift, and then somehow, they were standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Harry was shaking a little as Louis led him by the hand to the edge of the observation deck. Below them, Paris sprawled in every direction, bathed in the colors of the sunset. Already, most of the city lights were on below, and Harry had never seen anything so beautiful. That is, until he turned to look at Louis.

The sun was warming the side of Louis’ handsome face, and it cast shadows from his long lashes onto his cheeks. His eyes were the loveliest shade of blue, cerulean, and his smile was soft as he regarded Harry.

“What?” Louis teased. “Why are you looking at me, when you have this view?”

Harry shook his head and smiled. “My view is pretty wonderful, thanks.”

Louis rolled his eyes and smiled. “Silly. Let’s look at the city.”

Harry leaned into Louis’ side, and Louis wrapped an arm around him. For a few moments, they just stared down at the city of lights, taking in the timeless beauty of it. Harry leaned his head on Louis’ shoulder and smiled contently.

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry whispered, looking down at the lights.

“You’re very welcome. And thank you.”

“What for?” Harry asked.

“Well, thanks to you, we’ve seen several amazing cities and tons of cool people and places. And I picked up a few words in different languages, believe it or not.”

“What words?”

“Well,” Louis said, taking a deep breath, “in Rome and Venice,  _ ti amo.” _

Harry sucked in a breath of surprise and turned to look at Louis. Louis just smiled and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

Louis continued on. “In Cologne,  _ ich liebe dich _ .” Louis dropped a kiss on Harry’s other cheek.

“In Amsterdam and Brussels,  _ ik hou van je.”  _  Louis gently kissed Harry’s forehead.

“And in Paris,  _ je t’aime.”  _ Louis gave Harry a lingering kiss on the lips.

“L-Lou,” Harry said, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

Louis pulled back an inch and smiled fondly at Harry. “It took a trip around Europe to remind me how much I love you. Have always loved you. And I know only five ways to say it, but I’ll spend the rest of my life finding ways to show it.”

“Louis,” Harry said, fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. “Are you...do you mean it?”

“I do,” Louis said, gently wiping Harry’s tears with his thumbs. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered, letting out a shaky breath. “Say it again.”

Louis smiled a private smile and wiped the rest of Harry’s tears from his cheeks. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry felt hope and love surge in his chest, and everything finally clicked into place. All the doubt, the months apart, the sharp pang of loneliness--they were all worth it to be here right now.

“I love you too, Louis,” Harry replied, stepping closer. “I loved you when you raced me up the Spanish Steps in Rome. I loved you in Venice when you pretended you could play chess, just to make me smile. I loved you on a long train ride to Cologne, just sitting next to you. I loved you when you called me a sunflower in Amsterdam, and made me feel like one. I loved you in a park in Brussels when you made me cry over our historical love story. And I love you right here, right now. And I always will.”

Harry watched in fascination as a single tear rolled down Louis’ cheek. And then he smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through storm clouds after the rain. It rivaled the gorgeous sunset around them, standing at the highest point in Paris.

“I love you,” Louis whispered back, smiling radiantly. “Thank you for bringing us back together.”

Louis leaned closer and placed a lingering kiss on Harry’s lips, and Harry felt the electricity all the way to his toes. He reached for Louis, pulling him closer still, and Louis smiled into the kiss. He ran gentle fingers through Harry’s hair, then pulled back an inch.

“You okay, H?” he asked. “Feeling happy?”

“The happiest,” Harry replied with a slow smile. “What do we do now?”

“Well,” Louis mused, swaying Harry a little as if they were slow dancing, “I guess we’ll go back home. And we’ll go on adventures whenever we can. And when we can’t, we’ll make up our own. We’ll save travel money in a jar. And we’ll live.”

“Happily ever after?” Harry guessed with a grin.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Then there’s just one more thing you need to do,” Harry said with a sparkle in his eye.

“What’s that, love?”

“Learn how to say ‘boyfriend’ in all those languages,” Harry replied with a bright smile. “And maybe a few more, just to be safe. You never know when we’ll feel the need to pack up and go again.”

Louis laughed and nodded. “Do I see another Sunset Tour in our future?”

“Could be,” Harry said, his smile never dimming. “Maybe the farewell tour is just the beginning.”  

“Okay, boyfriend,” Louis said with a grin. “Bring on the adventure.”


	8. Chapter 8

VIII.

 

London, Summer 2016

 

Harry was handling the breakup well, all things considered. Aiden had been an asshole from the beginning, and it was silly of Harry to think he could change that with love and patience. But Harry wasn’t thinking about Aiden tonight. Harry was moving on.

He had gotten a text from Niall earlier that day which cut to the chase:  _ we’re going out 2nite, so get out of those nasty joggers and get dressed. _

Harry loved Niall. Harry loved everyone in this pub, in fact. True, the tables were sticky with god knows what, and it was crowded, and the service was terrible. But Harry sipped his strawberry margarita and smiled at the room in general. Tonight, he was moving on.

He had pulled out his date jeans, the black skinnies he loved so much and which he hadn’t worn for weeks. Even when they were dating, Aident hated going out. Asshole. Harry paired the jeans with a floral button up that was just this side of see-through and his favorite boots. 

He and Niall were now sitting at a round table in the middle of the pub, right in the action. They were drinking and people watching, just shooting the breeze, and Harry begrudgingly admitted he had needed this.

“You know what, Ni?” Harry asked, finishing his drink. “I knew he wasn’t the one.”

“Aiden? That dick. I thought we weren’t talking about him tonight, H.”

“I’m just saying. He had no sense of adventure. No aspirations. No dreams.”

“Then it’s good you broke up. Hey, I’m getting another drink, you want one?” Niall asked.

“Please.”

Niall sauntered off to the bar to get them drinks, and Harry sighed and looked around the room. It was basically the same crowd that came here every Friday night. His musings were interrupted by a new voice.

“Hey, mate, is anyone using this chair?”

Harry turned to the source of the voice and froze. Standing there was the most gorgeous person he had ever seen, hands down. He was shorter than Harry, and slender. Wearing a simple The Killers tee and jeans, he could have easily blended into the crowd. His eyes were bright blue, and his smile was hopeful. Because he wanted Niall’s chair.

Harry realized he had been openly staring and blushed. “I, um,” Harry began, clearing his throat, “think my mate is sitting there, actually.”

“Nice. Is he invisible then, or?” the man asked, barely containing a giggle.

“Niall?” Harry asked. “He’s um. At the bar. Drinks.”

“Ah,” the man nodded with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, thanks anyway.”

“I did have an imaginary friend once, though,” Harry replied, apparently with no control of his mouth. “Her name was Sara.”

The man smiled, and to Harry it lit up the dim pub considerably. “Did you now?”

Harry blushed a deep pink, but nodded. “She was nice. Sorry, I’m Harry.”

The man’s eyebrows rose, and he smiled pleasantly. “Louis. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Harry replied. “Are you new here?”

“Um, yeah, actually,” Louis replied. “It’s a long story, but I’m going back to school to be a primary teacher. You?”

“I’m a local,” Harry smiled, lifting his empty margarita glass in salute. “Graphic designer.”

Someone called Louis’ name, and he looked over his shoulder and held up a hand for them to wait.

“Are you staying a while?” Louis asked, turning back with a smile. “I’d love to hear more about you, and your imaginary friend.”

Harry nodded. “We’ll be here, sure. Do you sing karaoke?”

“Me? Never,” Louis laughed. “Do you?”

“In this bar? Of course,” Harry replied. “I’ll sing you a song later, if you stay.”

“Oh, really? I’ll be here then. What are you going to sing?”

Harry smiled widely. “It’s a surprise.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but grinned. “I’ll be cheering for you, then. Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You too, Louis,” Harry replied with a small nod. He watched Louis walk back to a crowded table and presumably explain the chair had been taken. Soon, Niall came back to the table bearing another margarita for Harry and a beer for himself.

“See anyone you like?” Niall asked in greeting.

“Maybe,” Harry said, glancing back at Louis across the bar.

An hour and several covert glances back at Louis later, Harry was standing on the small karaoke stage with a mic in his hand. “Hi, my name is Harry,” he told the crowd, “and this one is for my new friend, Louis.”

The opening notes of his favorite Billy Joel song began to play, and Harry met Louis’ eyes across the crowded, noisy pub. Louis winked, and Harry grinned back. As he sang the intro to “Only the Good Die Young,” he couldn’t help but feel like his luck was finally changing for the better.


End file.
